An Unlikely Rescuer
by sprite.isn't.lemonade
Summary: AU. The summer before Harry's 2nd year, the Dursleys tell him that he can never return to Hogwarts. Manipulative as ever Dumbledore sends Snape to retrieve the boy, but the Dursleys aren't letting go without a fight. No slash, HarryxSnape guardianship fic
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, obviously._

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From the shadows of his dimmed bedroom, Draco Malfoy stared out at the quiet moonlit path that led up to his home. Two men- one of them was his father- were slowly making their way up to Malfoy Manor. The young blonde watched them intently as the taller of the two nonchalantly shoved a giant albino peacock out of the way and continued up to the great mahogany door as though nothing had happened.

He heard voices downstairs, but didn't get up to go down and welcome the guest, since it was apparent from his mother's cries of surprise that the man in the billowing black cloak was already ushered inside. Careful not to make any noise, Draco gently reached for his wand and crept up to the peephole in the door across the room, wanting to listen in to what was obviously supposed to be a private conversation, judging by his parents' hurried whispers.

_Crack!_

Muffling a frightened yelp, Draco painfully hit his head on the dull brass knob of the door, and whirled around to face the intruder, holding his wand dangerously high over his head. It was no human, but rather a terrified-looking house elf with huge tennis ball eyes that glittered with salty tears.

"_Dobby!_" Draco hissed angrily, feeling torn between the intense desire to either massage away the excruciating pain on his forehead or strangle the creature to death.

"Master Draco…" Dobby wheezed as he pathetically crumpled to the floor in invisible agony. His entire body shook violently as he wept on his young master's shoes; while Draco flung the disgusting elf off of his foot, he vaguely noticed the slashes across the elf's nose; some so deep that spurts of blood fissured out and onto Draco's pristine white carpeting. Oh the stupidity of these self-mutilating elves…

"Where were you Dobby?" Draco demanded tersely as he grasped the elf by the neck and throttled him against a wall with an air of indifference. The elf continued its choked chorus of sobs, however, refusing to look up at his master and admit what he had done. "Answer me!" Draco bellowed so loudly that he was certain that those in the sitting room below would hear him, but that didn't matter at the moment…

"I…" Dobby trailed off as he appeared to have choked on his saliva and began retching and sputtering all over the floor, making Draco release his death grip on the creature's bony neck at once. He couldn't think of any loopholes to his master's question, and it was of greatest offense for an elf to lie to one's master. Feeling unusually impatient, Draco aimed a rather powerful kick at Dobby, sending him flying into the dusty old wardrobe on the other side of the room. He waited for Dobby to come out from the wreckage, but after several seconds, he realized that the idiotic elf had given up and remained lying in a fetal position underneath a pile of splintered wood.

"Get up!" Draco hissed, picking the elf up by the tip of his enormous ear and flinging him carelessly onto the floor near the bed. "I asked you where you went, now _answer me_!"

"Harry Potter!" was all the elf managed to say before he resumed howling in anguish over his betrayal of the Malfoys. Draco was so surprised by this answer that he stood in place for a moment, not sure what to say or how to punish the elf for his misbehavior and disloyalty. Meanwhile, Dobby screamed histrionically and wildly grabbed three of the lit candles that were perched upon Draco's desk and plunged their flames into his skull. Suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the neck and spun him around in the air.

"Did you say 'Harry Potter'?" Draco asked softly as the flames completely singed whatever hairs Dobby had left on the top of his enormous head. Whimpering in terror, Dobby nodded. Upon this confirmation, Draco dropped the elf to the ground and pointed his wand threateningly at him.

"What interest is Harry Potter to you, you filthy elf?"

"Master please!" Dobby once again threw himself at Draco's feet, kissing them lovingly and crying on them as though tears would make his master forgive him sooner. "Harry Potter shall no longer come to Hogwarts! Harry Potter is gone from magic, Master Draco!"

"_What?!_" Draco had been trying to kick the stupid git off of him, but paused as soon as he learned of this new information. "Potter…no longer coming to Hogwarts? What do you mean? And _stop crying!_"

Dobby froze at once, feeling the horrible duty to obey this demand placed upon him. With a huge sniff, Dobby whispered: "Harry Potter cannot come to Hogwarts. The Muggles Harry Potter lives with banned him! Dobby saw! Dobby _saw _it all!"

Draco nearly snorted. As though mere _Muggles_ could restrain Potter…still, if Dobby had confirmed it…

"Get off me," Draco snapped as he thrust Dobby aside and headed for the door. Sure, the house elf's antics were a nuisance, but this little tidbit of information had been fantastic. Finally, a year without Harry Potter…Draco half wondered if he was simply having a good dream as he made his way down the elegant marble stairs that led to the entrance of the sitting room. The voices grew louder as he approached, and just before he entered, he realized that he recognized the third person…

"Just as I was saying, Severus…" Lucius trailed off as he realized that his son had just entered the room. "Oh, Draco…"

"Draco, _what_ had been going on up there?" Narcissa demanded at once, not bothering to apologize to her husband for interrupting him. Feeling three pairs of eyes on him, Draco's gleeful expression vanished instantly; only the guest, Severus Snape, seemed to notice the change, however.

"Nothing, Mother. The elf just thought he saw a dementor."

Snape was astounded to find that both Lucius and Narcissa accepted this lie from Draco. While he was fond of the boy, and prone to believing anything he said, he knew that the racket from upstairs was not simply a fearful house elf…

"So, back to the point…" Lucius continued his conversation as though Draco wasn't even there, but Snape wasn't even remotely interested in what he had to say. He was barely even listening anymore; instead, he was too busy watching Draco's eyes. They flitted around so quickly that it was more than obvious that he had been lying. Also, the ecstatic grin that he had tried so desperately to hide from his parents unconsciously returned once his parents turned their attention away from him. Draco stared back into Snape's unfeeling black eyes, completely unaware of the intrusion into his mind…

After just a few seconds, Snape saw it: the house elf, Dobby, had screamed that Harry Potter wasn't coming back to Hogwarts. Undoubtedly by now, the boy had noticed something strange going on, and he looked away, breaking Snape's concentration with Draco's mind. Lucius babbled on about Draco's second year at Hogwarts and Narcissa even piped in at times, but Snape felt unattached and out of place in the discussion now, with his mind solely on Harry Potter. As much as he loathed the arrogant boy, he knew, deep down, that it was his duty to inform Dumbledore of the noncompliant Muggles or Potter wouldn't be attending Hogwarts this year…if the elf had been truthful with Draco,that is…

**xXxXxXxXx**

"Can't Minerva fetch him, then?"

"Severus, you know fully well that Minerva is currently very busy with the Muggleborn admissions…"

"But she's Potter's Head of House!"

"Minerva has no time to meddle with even _more_ Muggles at the moment…"

"And what of my time, Headmaster? Is my time less valuable than _hers_?"

"No, Severus," Dumbledore sighed, clearly tired of arguing with the potions master. It had been nearly four hours since he had arrived in Dumbledore's office through the Floo Network, there to tell him that Harry Potter had been locked up by his unruly relatives and therefore unable to attend Hogwarts for his second year. While a twelve year old boy's memory about a conversation with a house elf seemed to hold questionable validity at first, the old headmaster soon confirmed the Dursleys' lockdown on Harry with a quick visit from their Squib neighbor, Mrs. Figg.

Dumbledore had foreseen these events, of course; the boy's aunt and uncle had always held strong anti-magic views, and would undoubtedly try forcing this ideal upon the young wizard once his true identity had revealed itself. Of course, Albus Dumbledore did not give in to Muggles, even if they thought that what they were doing was best for the boy; or more likely, themselves, for that matter. They may be his guardians until he became of age, but they were still required to adhere to the laws regarding the education of young witches and wizards, whether they liked it or not. After all, it would not be prudent to send a wizard with one year of magical instruction to a Muggle school, especially not a wizard such as Harry Potter, whom, according to Trelawney's prophecy, would go on to defeat Voldemort if he ever came back. Therefore, if any child was going to receive schooling at Hogwarts, Harry was Dumbledore's first priority.

Dumbledore knew Severus didn't want to go and retrieve Harry from his relatives; the man made it exceedingly obvious that he would rather leave the task to someone else who actually cared about the boy's well-being. He had repeatedly tried and failed to convince Dumbledore to make anyone but him complete the task. The Weasley family? No, they were on holiday in Romania, observing dragons with Charlie. The Grangers? No, it would be much too difficult for a pair of Muggles to try and convince another family of Muggles- those who despised magic with a burning passion at that- to send their nephew back to Hogwarts without having a strong back up, such as a wand. None of the teachers were available either, seeing that they were busy organizing their classrooms and syllabuses for the start of the term and had absolutely no spare time to devote to the retrieval of a student from a family of resisting Muggles; even if it _was_ Harry Potter.

That left Severus as the only available candidate, seeing that all his preparations for the new school year were already completed. Dumbledore frowned deeply, knowing that the man had always been this stubborn, even as a student. He had loathed James Potter and his friends, and now it took every ounce of energy to convince Severus to rescue James' son. Of course, there was always that _one_ way to appeal to Severus…

"Severus," Dumbledore began seriously with a hint of subtle manipulation in his tone. "I am sure you know perhaps more than I do that the boy's mother would have wanted her son to receive a proper education…"

Dumbledore smiled inwardly as Snape immediately cringed at the sound of 'the boy's mother.' The headmaster had found his weak spot, and it gave him little room for further argumentation, lest he wished to reject what he had previously stated about protecting Harry for Lily's sake. The more he pondered this, the sourer his face became. He seemed to be having some kind of internal battle over whether or not to give in to Dumbledore's wishes, but the headmaster knew that Severus couldn't say no now.

"But Hagrid…"

"…is currently on holiday in Ireland," Dumbledore finished for him, smiling serenely over his half-moon spectacles at Severus' final attempt to make him choose someone else for the job.

"On holiday," Severus repeated. "What about…?"

"As for me, Severus," Dumbledore cut him off sharply. "I assure you I am not simply waiting patiently here in my office until the start of the term. The Minister is due to visit within an hour, so I suggest that you'd be going now."

Snape scowled angrily at his dismissal, seeing no options left in sight. It would be up to him to get Harry Potter, or he would miss the Hogwarts Express, which departed a week from today. Until then, the boy could stay at the Leaky Cauldron and finish his school shopping in Diagon Alley, since there was no way Severus would even _imagine_ having the boy stay with him until he, too, left for Hogwarts…

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore cheerily bade him goodbye as Snape went through the vibrant green flames again and departed for Mrs. Figg's home in Little Whinging, Surrey.

**xXxXxXxXx**

Petunia Dursley always fell asleep in her favorite velvet chair at 8:13 every evening. It was a habit she had had for years; ever since she and Vernon had first purchased their home on Privet Drive, which had come with the vivacious maroon chair as an added bonus for the lady of the house.

Tonight, however, was different. It was a very breezy evening, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out whether or not she was imagining footsteps out on their perfectly manicured lawn. Twice, she had flung herself at the front door's peephole; finding nothing outside, save for a few of Mrs. Figg's outdoor cats that liked to roam the streets after dusk. She found the animals to be quite repulsive creatures, yet she knew they couldn't be making the footstep-noises that she could have sworn were now coming from her front porch. She really hoped she wasn't going mad, because Vernon would hear none of it. Perhaps it was the boy…no, that couldn't be it. After his latest display of his freakishness, she and Vernon had locked up everything related to _his world_. Including the stick. Surely he couldn't do magic without his stupid twig, right?

Still, she couldn't help but twitch with every noise she heard. Dudley typing on one of his countless computers. Vernon stretching on the couch. The tick of the grandfather clock as each second passed. Even her own heartbeat was loud enough to make her jump.

After a particularly strong gust of wind, Petunia was certain she heard something in the front yard. Wasting no time at all, she bounded up from her seat and flung the front door open. Vernon grumbled something behind her, but didn't bother looking up this time. She looked up and down the barely-lit street of Privet Drive several times, before she managed to calm herself down enough to close the door again.

Outside, Severus Snape grimaced. He was standing just a few feet away from the door under a well-cast Disillusionment Charm, wondering why in the world it mattered so much to him that Potter returned to Hogwarts. It wasn't as though he was going to miss a good Potions student, since Potter was one of his worst students out of any of the dunderheads he had to teach, aside from Longbottom, perhaps. He had somehow forgotten about the Petunia-factor of this visit; she would undoubtedly make things unpleasant for him, considering that the two hadn't seen each other since the summer before his and Lily's fifth year at Hogwarts. After that, Lily stopped hanging out with Severus during the summer…she was too busy running around with her arrogant future-husband…

Not wanting to dwell longer on the memories of his and Lily's last summer as friends, Severus grudgingly removed the charm from his body and knocked on the door, hiding his wand behind his cloak. Behind the door, he could hear Petunia shriek "I _knew it_!" and within seconds, the door was flung open once more. At once, her frazzled, almost-manic expression distorted into a look of horrific rage. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, save for a low gurgle that possibly contained vomit that emitted from her throat. Instead, she merely settled for blinking furiously, looking as though she had been caught in a dust storm; Snape half wondered if she could even see properly.

He hadn't bothered putting on proper Muggle attire, of course. He had never followed the preposterous Muggle fashion trends in the past, so, he figured, why start now? So, he had worn the usual billowing black cloak and equally dark clothing underneath; everything except perhaps his pale face seemed to blend in with the shadows around the Dursley home. His appearance, added to the fact that he was a "freak," according to Petunia's standards, were enough to possibly give Vernon Dursley a massive heart attack once he found out.

Still, Snape found the silence almost amusing. Petunia had always been a rotten, talkative girl; having nothing kind to say to him but insults such as "What are you wearing anyways? Your mum's blouse?" Her speechlessness was somewhat of payback to Snape for all those years of hurtful words. Finally, after several minutes that felt more like ten lifetimes, Petunia seemed to have recovered the ability to speak like a normal human being.

Then again, all she did was raise an accusing finger at him and shriek "_YOU!_" Since this conversation would obviously go absolutely nowhere if Snape followed the suit, he decided he would make the attempt to at least act his age, rather than shout meaningless words such as "you."

"I am here for Potter," he answered her plainly, though the statement itself seemed a little too much for the woman to comprehend, so he broke it down for her: "Potter. School. Needs. To. Go."

"Don't speak to me like that!" Petunia snapped, blushing furiously. Ah, so the older girl hadn't lost her _lovely_ temperament, even after all this time…

"Get out," she added in a high voice, still trying to take in his appearance. It shouldn't have been too much of a shock to her, considering that's pretty much how Snape always used to dress when he was a kid. He heard voices in the room behind her, but neither of them sounded like Potter.

"I'm afraid I am not permitted to leave without Potter," he sneered at her horrified expression. She fidgeted around for a moment in the doorway, but found no response to this. Suddenly, she turned around and yelled for her husband to come here, since facing Snape by herself was obviously too much of a strain on her. A big, portly bloke rumbled down the hallway, with an equally fat child waddling in his wake. Snape repressed the strong desire to ask her in an incredulous voice if this was the idiot she ended up marrying, and instead covered his surprise with a well-disguised cough. Lily hadn't exactly made the best choice in husbands either, after all…

Potter was nowhere to be found amongst the trio of Dursley's; Snape almost wondered if they had thrown him out of the house by now. Not that he blamed them, of course, but they were Harry's guardians, so he assumed that the boy was still around somewhere within the obnoxiously clean home.

"Who is that…?" the red-faced man trailed off as he came up behind his skinny wife and took in Snape's appearance. His chest started heaving and Snape noticed a purple vein popping out on the temple of his head.

"It's…it's _him_," Petunia spat in an accusatory tone, glancing back and forth between Vernon and Snape as she spoke. "He was one of _her_ friends…"

The man gasped and looked up at Snape with an unmistakable look of contempt. "_You_!"

Snape sighed at the stupidity of these Muggles, but forced himself to remain calm. "Yes, your wife has already established that, thank you. Now if you could just release Potter to me, I'll _gladly_ be going…"

"You…you're not taking him…back to that school for _freaks_!" Petunia wailed, clearly more agonized by the remembrance that _she_ hadn't been allowed at Hogwarts when she was a girl, and therefore wanted her nephew to suffer a similar fate.

"Oh please_,_ _Tuney_," Snape sneered sarcastically while he absentmindedly toyed with his wand behind his back, wanting to hex the woman as payback for everything she made him suffer through as a kid. "Submitting to childish insults a little soon, aren't you?"

"Don't call me that!" she shrieked hysterically, looking as though she would punch him in the face, but was silently willing herself to resist the temptation for as long as possible. "You have no authority to take Harry away…"

By now, Harry had awakened from his deep slumber and was listening through the peephole in his door. He heard muffled voices down below; he felt as though he recognized the guest's voice, but couldn't quite figure out who it was. All he heard was vague snippets of the conversation, much to his great frustration. After nearly an entire summer of no contact with the Wizarding world, he was desperate to know whether or not someone would save him from this nightmare. Judging by his aunt's outraged tone, he could only assume that there was a witch or wizard down below. But, the question remained: _who_ was it?

"Actually, I do, considering that I teach the boy; yes I am a teacher, I know it comes as quite a shock to you," Snape added, almost enjoying the infuriated expressions on the three Muggles' faces. "And it is upon Dumbledore's orders that I take the boy away from here."

He now glanced directly at Petunia, whom by now had become quite ashen, and smirked. "I'm sure Mrs. Dursley here is more than capable of contacting the headmaster if you need to confirm my reason for this pleasant little visit."

Petunia turned a violent shade of scarlet. "But…no…I…_rubbish!_ Utter _rubbish_!"

But Snape knew he had caught her there, much to her son and husband's bewilderment. Certainly those two dunderheads would know nothing of Petunia's poor attempt to convince Dumbledore to allow her into Hogwarts when she was a girl…

"He's lying…he's lying, _I swear_…" Petunia breathed raggedly, unable to hide her hatred for the man any longer, not that she needed to, since Snape was well-aware of just how much she detested him.

"Get out, you," Vernon stepped in front of his wife suddenly. "Harry's not allowed to go back to your crazy institution, you hear?"

"As I have clearly explained, _Muggle_—"

"_Don't call me a ruddy 'Muggle' you insolent_—"

"—I am not leaving the premises until Potter comes as well," Snape cut him off sharply. As Vernon made an irate attempt to shove Snape out of the way and slam the door in his face, Snape's hand jerked behind his cloak. It was the moment he'd been waiting for: he pulled out his wand and held it pointed at Petunia's pig of a husband. All three Dursleys jumped backwards at the sight of the wand, and Vernon almost instantaneously released the door, letting it swing wide open. All of a sudden, Snape was in control of the situation again; three pairs of eyes nervously followed the wand as though it were a Muggle gun, ready to kill them at any given moment.

"Put that away," Petunia said at last, her voice extremely shaky.

"Scared of awful Snape's wand are we?" Snape sneered as he waved it in the air. He didn't perform any magic, of course, but the mere movement seemed to scare the living daylights out of them. "You know, magic—" he smirked as the three cringed at the very word, "—isn't banned during the summer for adults. I'm afraid if you don't move and allow me to retrieve Potter, I'll be forced to get by using _other_ means."

At this, Petunia turned quite pale. Snape got the impression that she hadn't dealt with many full-grown wizards before, save for Hagrid of course, but Snape didn't suppose he counted, since he had had his wand snapped years ago. He knew Potter was upstairs, by now; he heard the boy's muffled footsteps and creaking floorboards from the closest room upstairs. With another flick of his wand— cleverly disguised as just a taunting swish, rather than an actual performance of magic— he unlocked the many locks on Potter's door.

"I said put it away!" Petunia screamed, hugging her porky son, who was close to tears at the sight of the creepy man with the wand in front of him.

Upstairs, Harry had taken the cue and was now silently creeping down the stairs. It must have been a wizard, he concluded, since it would have taken his uncle nearly ten minutes to undo all of those locks without magic. As he reached the foot of the stairs, he held back a gasp of shock: standing in the doorway was his Potions professor, the absolute _last_ person he'd ever think of seeing at the Dursleys' house.

"Potter," Snape acknowledged him stiffly, making all three of his relatives whirl around to face him. Harry just blinked, not sure of what to say to the man whom had made his first year at Hogwarts a memorably miserable experience. Then again, this was his first time in the presence of someone from the Wizarding world since he left Hogwarts. Since that idiot elf, Dobby, hadn't left behind his stolen letters from Ron and Hermione, he had been shut out of the world once more. Not only that, but after the incident with Dobby, his relatives had taken away everything that even linked him to the world of magic, except Hedwig, thankfully.

"How'd…how'd you get out, boy?" Vernon roared with his face redder than Harry had ever seen it in his eleven years of living with the man.

"I…"

"I released him," Snape replied calmly as he glanced over Harry's abysmal appearance. He looked as though he hadn't eaten in days, nor did he look as well-rested as he should have been. "We'll be departing as soon as you give him back his belongings."

Without warning, Petunia made a mad dash for the cupboard under the stairs, where they had stored all of Harry's things. It was almost comical watching her attempt to block Snape from getting Harry's school items. Snape invited himself inside— much to Dudley's dismay— and followed the rest of the family into the living room.

"He…he can't go if he doesn't have his stuff and that…that _stick_!" Petunia cried, looking quite mad as her hair dangled wildly in her face.

Snape sighed once more at her naïveté. Harry was watching him strangely, but he paid no attention to the boy at this point in time. He was to get Potter out of here first; questions later. He'd already been here longer than he had planned on being here, mostly thanks to the boy's relative's theatrics. Holding up his wand, he flicked it lazily towards Petunia, relishing the fact that he was perfectly unrestrained to using magic against her now that he was no longer under the Trace he had been on as a kid. She was flung off to the side by some invisible force and Snape opened the cabinet, motioning for Harry to get his things.

Behind him, Snape saw the boy's uncle slap him across the head. "Make him get out," he barked at Harry, who merely stood there, looking as though Snape had just given him a million Galleons. It was painfully obvious that the man feared Snape, with good reason too, since he could use his wand as freely as he wished, while Harry wasn't allowed to use magic until the school year began.

"As much as I approve of your disciplinary methods for Potter—" Snape sneered as he watched Harry's grateful expression dissolve into a sour look at these words, "—I daresay we must be going."

He flicked his wand again, making everything soar out of the cupboard and land neatly next to Harry. He turned to Petunia now, who was currently looking on in horror at Snape's simple display of magic in her own house.

"Potter needs his wand, if you'd be so kind as to fetch it for him, we'll be off."

Petunia gaped at him, unsure of what to do. "I…I'm not telling where it is!" she replied defiantly, hating him for having so much control over the situation.

Dumbledore would pay for making him suffer through this, Snape thought inwardly as he raised his wand again and said "Very well then. _Accio wand._"

Out of nowhere, Harry's familiar holly and phoenix feather wand came zooming from the kitchen area. It landed gently in Snape's hand, and he offered it to Potter, much to the boy's shock. True, the man had saved his life countless times from Quirrell his previous year, but he had never expected the man to actually show up and help him return to Hogwarts this year! While he had personally hoped for Hagrid to come and fetch him, Harry figured that, at this point, he should be thankful he was rescued at all. He also had to admit that he found it highly amusing to see Snape messing with the Dursleys' innate fear of magic; something he personally enjoyed very much.

Noticing Snape's impatient glare, Harry hastily grabbed the wand and gathered his belongings. He knew Snape's attitude towards him had barely changed since their previous encounters, but still, he'd much rather depart with his unpleasant Potions teacher than remain here under the wrath of the Dursleys. After what seemed like a lifetime without any contact with the Wizarding world, he was finally returning…it was a feeling so wonderful that he felt almost as elated as he first did when Hagrid revealed that he was a wizard.

"Let's go, Potter," he said indifferently as he began striding towards the door. The three Dursleys simply stared after them; Dudley was undoubtedly terrified of ever messing with full-grown wizards again after the incident with Hagrid, and Vernon seemed to be put into his place as well. Petunia, on the other hand, still looked defiant.

"You…you go to that school then. You'll just end up like _her!_"

Harry, used to his aunt's insults about his parents, ignored this and continued pulling his trunk towards the door. Snape, however, froze in place and slowly turned to face a flustered, but triumphant-looking Petunia. She had never been exceptionally good at making him angry, but this time, his eyes flashed murderously at her statement about Lily…

"Potter, go wait outside," he snapped at the boy, whom had paused to see why his professor wasn't following. Clearly startled, the boy nodded quickly and shut the door behind him.

Snape pulled out his wand so quickly that Petunia barely had time to react. Within a second, he was just inches away from her, with the tip of his wand digging into her forehead. She eyed the wand in horror, wondering what terrible things Snape was capable of…

"Another statement like that, and _I'll_ personally make sure you end up like her," Snape hissed so quietly that only she could hear. He jabbed his wand threateningly into her skin, just long enough to prove that he wasn't afraid of the consequences of whatever actions he took against her.

Finally, without another word, he lowered his wand and stuffed it back into his pocket. He didn't want to give Potter any time to figure out what was going on inside, so he quickly departed; leaving the Dursleys standing completely dumbstruck behind him. With a hint of satisfaction, he was pretty sure he heard a muffled cry from Petunia as he slammed the door behind him.

**xXxXxXxXx**

"Now, remember you must purchase all of your supplies today and remain in your room in the Leaky Cauldron until Tuesday, when someone from the Ministry will arrive to take you to King's Cross…_are you listening to me, Potter?"_

Shaking himself out of it, Harry nodded, but continued staring quizzically at his professor.

"Sorry…sir," he added hastily, looking down at the food in front of him. He and Snape had arrived here in Diagon Alley nearly two hours ago by Side-Along Apparition. Snape had wanted to leave at once, but Harry had reminded him that he needed money and didn't have possession of his Gringott's key yet, so Snape had most unwillingly accompanied the boy to his vault. Afterwards, Snape had, ever so grudgingly, bought the boy lunch, since it looked as though he hadn't been fed properly all summer. Snape was desperate to leave now; spending this much time with James Potter's son was truly a nightmare for him, especially after having to deal with Lily's nasty sister. He'd had had enough for today, and was ready to return to his office at Hogwarts, but Harry kept making excuses for him to stay, which he found strange, considering that he had never gotten the impression that the boy liked his company any more than he liked Harry's.

"Sir?"

Snape had been walking away, ready to find a place to Disapparate now that Harry's schedule seemed to be in order, but instead, he paused and gave the boy an exasperated look. "What now, Potter?"

The boy bit his lip and frowned, apparently trying to fit his thoughts into words. "I…I just wanted to say thanks, I guess…for getting me out of there," he mumbled timidly as he refocused his attention on his snowy owl.

_Amazing,_ Snape thought sardonically. _So Potter has a concept of proper manners, after all._

Not one for awkward moments like these, he merely nodded to the boy. He looked awfully lonely, sitting at the table with nothing but an owl for company…

However, this was _Harry Potter_, Snape reminded himself. If The-Boy-Who-Lived wanted company, he could just show off his famous lightning scar and get a million people to admire him if he so desired. Snape certainly wasn't going to start feeling sorry for the boy…not after all the trauma he personally went through just to get him out of the damned Muggles' household…

"See you at school, Potter," he replied at last. With that, he strolled off into the throngs of people crowding the shopping center, leaving behind a perplexed boy who didn't really know what to make of Professor Snape anymore…

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_I wouldn't mind a review~ :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to the story's initial popularity, I have decided to continue it past its original one-shot design. Enjoy~_

_Disclaimer: I will never own Harry Potter._

_Time of Completion (writing/editing/mindless obsessing/etc.): 22 hours, 6 minutes (yes, I need to get a life...)_

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Snape couldn't remember a time when he had felt more relieved than when he left Potter in Diagon Alley earlier that day. It had been a hectic past few days: from Lucius' futile discussion at Malfoy Manor, to finding out about Potter and later rescuing Potter, Snape had had enough excitement for a while. It was bad enough he didn't get the chance to work on brewing more Polyjuice Potion for his upcoming sixth years, but he had also wasted one of his precious few days left of summer for Harry Potter's sake. He couldn't think of anything he would have reviled more than dealing with Lily's snobbish sister and James Potter's son on the same day. It was the worst of both worlds.

Still, at least he had managed to Apparate into Hogsmeade by mid-afternoon, and later returned to the comforts of the castle before nightfall. There were no students here yet, except for the Head Boy and Head Girl, who were always required at Hogwarts a week before the start of the year in order to receive their special training. Excluding Hagrid, all of the professors were back at Hogwarts, busily preparing themselves for the year ahead.

Snape scowled as he hustled along the abandoned corridors, wanting to organize his stores cabinet before dinnertime. None of the others were even remotely aware of the troubles he had gone through to get Potter…a student that wasn't even in his own house…he was just another second year, so why did it matter so much to Dumbledore whether the boy came or not?

Snape's frown deepened. It probably had something to do with that stupid prophecy that Dumbledore was always obsessing over…

_No,_ Snape told himself firmly as he aimed a kick at an old gray rat that had so foolishly fallen asleep in his path to the dungeons. _Dumbledore is just fond of the boy…he wouldn't want him at Hogwarts _only_ to train him up to eventually face the Dark Lord…_

"_Severus?_" he heard the incredulous voice of a woman come from behind him, breaking through his innermost thoughts as she spoke. Recognizing the person at once, he had to wonder what she was doing all the way down here.

"Oh, good evening Minerva," Snape reluctantly paused to greet her. He had hoped there would be no distractions on his way down here, but of course, things never seemed to work out the way he wanted them to…

She stared at him for quite some time, making Snape wonder what in the world she was going to say next. Finally, after wasting yet two _more_ minutes of his time, she inquired, "Where's Potter?"

"Potter?" he repeated at once, unsure of why she wanted to know where the insufferable boy was. "I did fetch him from his relatives, if that is what you mean. He is safe now."

"Where is he, though, Severus? Is he…"

"…he's where he's supposed to be!" he snapped impatiently, hating the fact that just because Minerva was older than him, she seemed to think that she possessed some sort of seniority over him. He also knew that she never fully trusted him after he had left Hogwarts as a teenager…she had undoubtedly heard about those years in between his departure as a student and return as a teacher…she had been the leader in the teachers' protest against his appointment as Potions master…

Luckily for him, Dumbledore trusted him completely, thanks to his little secret; of which nobody would ever learn about, of course. Especially Potter.

Still, he knew that even with Dumbledore's full confidence in him, Minerva didn't hesitate in questioning his actions and motives; particularly when he took action against her house. Seeing that she doted on Potter almost as much as Dumbledore did, she was very rude to Snape whenever she learned of his latest actions against the boy. It was apparent that today would be no different.

"Isn't he supposed to be with you?" she shot back with equal irritation, looking more and more infuriated the longer the two stared at each other. Snape noticed her ink-splattered hands were clenched tightly; judging by her overall appearance, she looked as though she hadn't gotten a minute's rest in months. There must be a lot of Muggleborn admissions this year to have her working this hard…

"With me? I believe you are quite mistaken, Minerva. See, Dumbledore had instructed…" Snape trailed off; _wait…what __**did**__ Dumbledore instruct him to do with the boy? _Suddenly, the truth hit him harder than an irate Bludger: Harry wasn't supposed to be at the Leaky Cauldron by himself. After all of the stress from getting the boy away from Privet Drive, Snape had somehow confused his information with another conversation he had had the day before that…

"_Just as I was saying, Severus, Draco will have to be escorted to King's Cross by someone from the Ministry I believe. Until they have finalized the search through our home, Narcissa is not permitted to leave the premises, and I am only allowed off because of my ties with the Minister. I am allowed to take Draco to Diagon Alley, of course, but they're searching the home on Tuesday, and I must be around for that so Draco will stay at that morbid place, the Leaky Cauldron, overnight and wait for his escort in the morning…Narcissa doesn't want him to, but Draco's old enough don't you think? And it's not like we have a choice. Honestly, it must have been Weasley…damn blood traitors are always on the look out…trying to blame the purer families for still having strong ties to the Dark Lord, even after all these years…where will our society go next? Allowing Muggles to observe students at Hogwarts? Mudbloods—" _

_Snape subconsciously cringed at this word…_

"—_in the school are bad enough, but they simply must set a limit, don't you think? As much as I've been awaiting his return, do you honestly believe Potter's claims that the Dark Lord is…back? The story sounded quite fictitious to me…surely there is no such thing as a Sorcerer's Stone…? Ah well, at least the Ministry won't be finding anything of importance next week…"_

Draco was to be escorted by a Ministry official to King's Cross. Not Harry. Snape had been too busy breaking into Draco's mind to pay much attention to Lucius, and now he was paying the price of hearing, but not _comprehending_.

Somehow, his mind had misinterpreted the information and confused Lucius' words with Dumbledore's orders for Potter. Dumbledore, Snape suddenly recalled with a look of horror dawning on his face, had told him to check in with a Ministry official upon arriving at the Leaky Cauldron. This would have saved him from having to appear at a Ministry hearing in the future for participating in Side-Along Apparition with an underage wizard. After that, he vaguely recalled Dumbledore mentioning something about staying with the boy, but he had been so fatigued from playing Dumbledore's servant the past couple of days that he had forgotten this vital information.

Only now did the severely sleep-deprived Potions professor realize what a grave error he had made. Not only had he performed illegal magic by transporting the second-year boy by Apparating to Diagon Alley without prior authorization, but he had left Dumbledore's golden student all by himself at the Leaky Cauldron.

What in the world made him think that a boy, who wasn't allowed to perform magic for another week, could possibly survive on his own?

Then again…while the boy's maturity level was about the same as his father's before him, he _had_ managed to defeat Quirrell all by himself the previous year. Of course Snape had every right to think the boy could fend for himself after that!

But still…Harry had been abandoned by the person whom had been assigned to stay with him. McGonagall seemed to process the truth faster than Snape, and began stomping towards him, with a murderous expression written all over her face.

"_Where is Potter?!_"

Snape stared back at her with an outward appearance of calmness, while on the inside, he was panicking. "The Leaky Cauldron," was all he could say, still not quite believing that someone as sharp as him could have messed things up so badly. It was Dumbledore's fault, really…he hadn't wanted to go get the boy, but the old manipulator had pulled the Lily-excuse on him, to where he couldn't possibly refuse the request. Now look where that got them!

"_BY HIMSELF?!" _McGonagall roared, waking all of the portraits in the corridor around them at once. Snape had never seen her look so mad: her eyes flashed dangerously and now, much to Snape's shock, she was pulling out her wand. He instinctively whipped out his own, and he cast a shield just a mere second before her anger-fueled jinx nearly hit him. No more magic came after she realized he had a shield around him, but she still glowered at him with a look of cold and violent fury.

"_YOU LEFT POTTER ALONE IN DIAGON ALLEY?!"_ she yelled again, completely losing her temper, something Snape rarely, if ever, saw from McGonagall.

"That'll do, Minerva," a quiet voice interrupted from the shadows behind the two colleagues. "Why, good evening Severus, I hadn't expected you back so soon."

"Albus!" McGonagall cried breathlessly as she spun around to face the lilac-robed headmaster. "Oh…oh my _word_! Where to even begin…?!"

"I heard quite enough, thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore held up a hand, quieting the frazzled Transfiguration teacher at once. He then directed his attention to Snape, who froze under the old man's icy blue glare. "Is it true then, Severus?"

"I…" Snape trailed off as Dumbledore raised his hand again in a plea for silence. He knew he would pay the price for this mistake…Dumbledore had entrusted Harry in his care, and now he had completely ruined his promise to the headmaster…not only to him, but to Lily…

Dumbledore's unusual calmness and McGonagall's silent rage were almost too much for Snape to handle, but he waited quietly in place for a verdict. The rat that he had kicked earlier was now chewing revengefully on the end of his shoes, not that he cared at this point. There was a low shuffling noise coming from the corridor perpendicular to them; house elves carrying plates filled with delicious food, no doubt. It took every ounce of patience for Snape not to fidget in place like some cheeky first year.

He briefly remembered a confrontation like this between the three of them years ago…but that was when Snape was a fourth year. He was much more vulnerable to the professors' quests for power over their pupils back then; though it appeared now that he hadn't so much as gained a backbone against them years later when he finally met them on equal ground.

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall, smiling peacefully as though nothing was wrong at all. To anyone else, this would have been comforting, but to Snape, any time the headmaster smiled in that manner, he knew nothing but bad things were in store for him. "Minerva, I know you are concerned for Harry's safety as much as I, but Severus was merely here to retrieve his belongings…"

He now turned back to Snape. He immediately realized that the headmaster was saying, and he didn't like this idea one bit.

"Severus, I apologize for not sending everything in advance."

Snape stared at him blankly. So…Dumbledore was taking the blame for him? But it was _his_ mistake! Not Dumbledore's! Noticing the freshly enraged expression on his colleague's face, Snape had a feeling that Minerva knew this was simply not the case.

"You may quickly salvage your possessions and I expect you to return to watch over Harry within an hour."

"Watch over…you mean I have to _stay_ with him?!" Snape asked, praying that his ears were deceiving him. He had expected Dumbledore change the plan and instead ask him to bring Potter back to Hogwarts with him. But to stay in Diagon Alley with the boy…? Surely this could not be true…Dumbledore knew he wouldn't last a full day with the boy…

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore answered seriously. "You know it is strictly prohibited for a student to arrive at Hogwarts before the start of the year unless they're a Head Boy or Girl. Since the boy has no guardians at the moment, I'm afraid I overestimated your use of common sense in expecting you to stay with him the first time around."

Snape was speechless. Not only had Dumbledore just verbally abused him into giving up the rest of his summer for Harry Potter, but he had deeply insulted his basic common sense as well.

"Now wait a minute, Albus…" McGonagall broke through the tense silence with a slight edge in her voice. "Severus has obviously shown that he cannot responsibly care for the boy…I'd be willing to…"

"No," Dumbledore interrupted her. "I want Severus to remain the boy's guardian. He did a fine job retrieving him from his relatives, and I believe he will not make the same mistake of leaving him behind again, _yes_?"

He looked curiously back at Snape, who had no choice left but to scowl and nod stiffly in agreement. As much as he would have preferred that Minerva took over, he knew there was no use fighting the headmaster about it. If he was truly _that_ determined for Snape to remain in charge of Harry's safety, then so be it. Snape wasn't happy in the least, of course, but he figured he was lucky that the punishment wasn't worse, such as losing his job as the resident Potions master. As much as he hated the job, it would be nearly impossible for him to find a position of similar standing and pay elsewhere, considering his questionable history and ex-Death Eater status…

Still, he had to wonder why Dumbledore was so nonchalant about the fact that Harry was currently by himself. Was it because he had more faith in the boy's maturity than Snape did, or was it something else?

While most of the boy's professors found him to be a delightful young student, he knew that Potter could be just as unruly and irresponsible at the same time…just like his arrogant toerag of a father had been.

McGonagall seemed to have given up the debate by now; she had forever questioned Dumbledore's reasons for trusting Snape so much, so their irksome argument earlier hadn't exactly come as a huge surprise to him.

Still, before turning on her heels and heading for the Great Hall for supper, she gave Snape a long, scathing glare, that clearly read: _If I see that Potter's hurt in any way, shape, or form when school starts, you'll have ME to answer to._

Smiling pleasantly, completely oblivious to Snape's newfound irritation at being volunteered to watch over Harry for the next week, Dumbledore waved him off. "Goodnight Severus, I think you'll be surprised… Harry might actually be happy to see you."

**xXxXxXxXx**

It was nearly nine o'clock, and after two hours of tireless searching for Potter, Snape was ready to give up. He hadn't eaten in hours, and he felt rather annoyed knowing he had missed out on the house elf-prepared feast that the rest of his untroubled colleagues had undoubtedly enjoyed two hours ago.

His annoyance instantly vanished, however, when he was promptly reminded of how McGonagall would ensure that his life became a living hell if Potter never safely returned to Hogwarts. At this point, Snape figured he'd be lucky if he could find Potter at all!

Most of the shops on the streets of Diagon Alley were closed by now, making it highly unlikely that the wanderer was still gathering supplies for school. Still, it worried Snape to think where he might be. He wasn't in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, and Tom, the barman, informed him that Potter hadn't been there in several hours.

_Oh my god, Lily, what if I lost your son?_ He thought feverishly as he hurried along the lamp lit streets, desperate for any sign of the wearisome child. For once, he thought with a twinge of amusement, he wasn't searching for Potter to get the boy into trouble. He was searching for him so that _he_ personally could stay _out_ of trouble.

The boy had been so sneaky his first year at Hogwarts; what if he decided to leave Diagon Alley for a while and explore the Muggle world outside of the boundaries? Breaking the rules was never much of a concern to Potter anyways, nor had it been to his father. So like James, he was…strutting everywhere as though he were the greatest person put onto the earth…rules were for the little people, but certainly not the high-and-mighty Potters…

A loud cackle from the alleyway down to Snape's left caught his attention and broke into his Potter-insulting-session. Glancing down the dark alley, he realized with a jolt that it was Knockturn Alley. A very familiar place to him, indeed…he hadn't been down there in years…though he had grown quite fond of the place in his years as a Death Eater…

He certainly hoped Potter hadn't been reckless enough to wander down there. It was no place for a young second-year Gryffindor; especially for a boy as famous as Harry Potter. Just in case, however, he turned down and strolled into the gloomy street, still on the lookout for a small boy with round glasses.

Much to Snape's relief, it seemed as though the boy hadn't come down here after all. Most of the shops were closed by now, anyways, but in the few that were open, Snape found no sign of Potter anywhere. He wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or panicked by this. For one, Potter wasn't down the street infamous for selling Dark Magic items and artifacts; however, this meant that Potter was absolutely nowhere to be found. He had checked everywhere…and still no Potter.

Perhaps he went back to the Muggle world and couldn't get back into Diagon Alley? No, that couldn't be it; he would have at least been able to get back into the Leaky Cauldron. Then again, if he was lost or…

A growing sensation of horror bubbled up within him: what if someone had _kidnapped_ him? Harry was definitely famous enough for someone to be able to ask a huge ransom for his safe return. Or, Snape had seen Potter's vault at Gringotts. It was literally overflowing with Galleons. What if they forced the boy to empty it in order for him to return unharmed? Losing money was no big deal, but what if…

_Stop it,_ Snape ordered himself as he shook away these thoughts at once, willing himself to believe that Harry was back in his room from who-knows-where by now. Still, he couldn't help but feel pangs of pessimism the longer he was out here. Oh, how Dumbledore would _kill_ him if Harry was gone for good…

_All he cares about is his stupid prophecy_, Snape thought angrily as he shoved a bumbling drunkard out of his way. Deep down, he wondered if this wild goose chase was Dumbledore's punishment to him for overhearing the prophecy all those years ago. In a sense, it was essentially his fault that Harry lost his mother (oh yeah, and his father), and gotten the lightning bolt scar. Had Voldemort never received the damned prophecy, it could have been James frantically searching for the boy right now…not Snape. He sneered at the very thought of negligent, immature, James Potter…losing his mind because he couldn't find his pathetic excuse for a son…it would have been sweet revenge indeed…

Instead, fate just didn't work that way, and even in death, James was still tormenting him. James might be gone, but that didn't mean that his legacy wouldn't live on with his son. Snape losing his mind over this fruitless search for Harry must be James' revenge…

Snape was now squandering even more time shoving his way through crowds of drunks and senile witches who were unsuccessfully trying to harass him into buying terribly-overpriced poison antidotes.

Borgin and Burkes was just down the street; Snape had been a…well, _casual acquaintance_ of the owner for years, and he could possibly help him.

However, as Snape approached the entrance to the shop, he noticed a huge crowd of people standing outside. The people were muttering and whispering things to each other in excited voices, but Snape presumed them as intoxicated to the point beyond logical speech, and therefore he ignored them and jostled his way to the door.

"How 'bout a nice love potion for dee leetle boy with da pocket full of Galleons?" a scrawny witch's high screech came from the middle of the crowd. Snape continued weaving his way through the masses of people until he reached a break in the middle of the group. Although it was quite dark here, he didn't need to see the person who answered, since he immediately recognized the voice…

"No, leave me alone!"

There on the ground sat none other than Harry Potter. Snape had absolutely no idea what he was doing here, but a feeling of tremendous irritation consumed him at once.

"Potter!"

The boy, who was currently being harassed by the mousey witch with a goblet of simmering silver liquid in one of her bony hands, looked up in shock. For once in his life, seeing Snape there was like some kind of miracle. The group, once focused on mocking the terrified boy, turned their attention to Snape.

"Could that really be Severus Snape?" a tough-sounding man grunted from behind them. "It's been a while…"

"Heard yer working for Dumbly now…oh where did you go wrong…?" another witch taunted him.

Snape ignored them pushed his way over to Potter; many of them were former acquaintances of his, and cleared a path for him, wondering what use the kid was to him. He irritably jostled the witch with the silver potion aside and harshly hoisted Potter off of the ground by his arm. He looked exhausted, Snape noted as he looked at his face, wondering what to say to the incommodious boy.

"Wait!" a small, black-haired wizard with yellowish eyes cried out at once. "Did he say Potter? _Harry Potter?!_"

Snape froze. He had to get Harry out of there as soon as possible, before they attracted too much attention, however, it seemed a little too late for that. It was obvious that the seedy street vendors had originally thought him to be just a gullible little kid who had run off with his parent's money; now, however, they looked at him with newfound greed…

"Follow me, Potter," Snape snapped as he jerked on his arm hurriedly. Harry attempted to follow, but several people had grabbed onto him by now, anxious for a peek at the boy with the scar that had enigmatically defeated their once-great leader. The crowd of agitated onlookers was closing in on them, but Snape knew better than to try and take on dozens of Dark wizards singlehandedly. Just as he suspected, the mere act of pulling out his wand caused all hell to break lose.

Everyone began pulling out their own wands, screaming "He's mine! He's _mine!_"

Hexes and curses flew every which way, and Harry and Snape suddenly found themselves in the middle of a full-blown riot; with everyone fighting for a chance to vanquish the boy that had shattered their lives once the Ministry uncovered their families' ties to Voldemort all those years ago…

Fortunately for Harry, Snape focused on his main priority of getting him out of there safely, instead of panicking like everyone else. He deflected curses of all sorts; when one drunken young wizard tried cursing Harry, Snape responded with a terrible attack of his own. Harry had never seen something quite like it: the man, hit in the face by Snape's curse, suddenly fell to the ground, with blood spurting from every part of his body. It was really gruesome for Harry to watch, and he found himself wondering if Snape would ever try that on Harry if he misbehaved…

In the middle of the brawl, Snape lost his firm grip on Harry's arm, separating the two at once.

"Potter!" he heard Snape yell for him over the deafening roar of angry witches and wizards around them. Nobody in the group was even going after Harry now, but rather just attacking random people around them. Harry ducked several times to avoid flashes of gold and red; one particularly strong spell struck the ground in front of him, blasting apart the cobblestone pavement with the sheer force of a giant.

A colossal chunk of the ground from the explosion struck Harry on his left knee; he crumpled to the ground in agony as he felt as though his entire leg had been blasted to smithereens. Shiny crimson blood gushed all around his leg like a turbulent river during the rainy season; nobody seemed to hear his screams of pain, nor did they care if they stepped on him, since there were so many bodies on the ground at this point— dead or otherwise, Harry couldn't tell— that one more was hardly worth noticing.

Urgently trying to ignore the insufferable stabbing sensation in his knee and the corresponding pool of blood around him, Harry shakily plunged his hand into his cloak, and pulled out his own wand, not caring about the Ministry's stupid restriction on underage wizards at the moment. He figured self-defense would be a good excuse if the Ministry later questioned him.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled repeatedly at random people around him; he couldn't identify any of them, but then again, they were all wearing cloaks similar to Snape's, so he could have already Disarmed his own professor for all he knew…

Suddenly, there was a flash of green in the midst of the battle. It was the same flash from his nightmares...the ones where his parents were screaming for the other to protect him...the same green flash that left his mother motionless on the floor every time before he woke up...

If people were blindly murdering now, then he knew it was undoubtedly unwise to remain in the center of the skirmish like this. Pushing his way past countless pairs of jostling legs, Harry slowly crawled his way to the outer part of the riotous group. One witch's cloak lashed him in the face on his way; it took every ounce of self-control for him not to yell out in pain as his cheek stung from the impact.

When he reached the outermost boundary of the scuffle, he tried standing up, but his left leg quivered violently, unable to independently support him at all. Off to the left, there was a loud explosion and suddenly, two shops were totally engulfed in ominous emerald flames, giving them the appearance of a giant Floo fireplace. Fearing he would remain trapped here for some time, Harry feebly called out for Snape. His insides burned from inhaling the smoke and ashes that were raining down everywhere, and he found it nearly impossible to shout any louder, lest he bust a lung. He couldn't even hear himself think; the screaming and detonations around him were deafening. Ignoring the searing pain in his lungs, he desperately yelled for Snape again, but instead of hearing a response, he was very nearly hit by several flashes of red light.

To his right, he saw another jet of green light strike one of the tallest wizards of the group directly in the face. He froze in place for what seemed like an eternity— the brutish expression never left his face— before crumpling to the ground with a resounding _thud!_ He lay motionless for quite some time until Harry realized that the man had just been hit with the Killing Curse. Feeling extremely repulsed by this revelation, Harry crawled over to the edge of the shop and hid behind a barrel, frantically Disarming as many people as he could manage and calling out for Snape once more.

Almost instantaneously, he was jerked to his feet by the collar of his cloak; whoever it was, they had just narrowly saved him from another green flash that was undoubtedly the _Avada Kedavra_…

Thinking that it was Snape, Harry hopped around on his good leg to face his savior, but saw with growing dread that it was the crazy witch that had tried scamming him into buying that goblet full of silver potion earlier.

"Have this potion, Mr. Potter, free of charge!" she shrieked hysterically as she forcefully thrust the potion into his mouth and down his throat before Harry even knew what was happening. At once, Harry realized that this was _not_ a love potion. He may indeed have no talent in Potions, but he was smart enough to realize that the liquid he had just swallowed was an unfriendly drink…

The witch laughed maniacally as Harry's vision grew extremely blurry, to the point where even his glasses didn't function properly. The outermost layer of his skin burned excruciatingly as though he had either been thrown into an open fire or he had just taken a bath in a vat of toxic waste. He dizzily managed a fleeting look at his skin as violent blotches of scarlet and purple appeared, but he didn't stare too long. He swayed dangerously on his right leg; he would be unable to bear the excruciating pain from his knee and the fire-like agony that had spread to every inch of his body much longer. Everything became hazy in front of him; it was like he was in a dream, merely observing the fight from the outside.

The experience strangely reminded him of Quirrell from the previous year, instead it was _him_ feeling the intolerable pain now, not Quirrell. With just a few seconds' of consciousness left, he briefly saw his panic-stricken professor sprinting towards him out of the corner of his eyes.

Just as Harry was ready to fall into total unconsciousness, he was grabbed by the arm and the riotous scene disappeared as he felt a sensation of suffocation overwhelm him…

**xXxXxXxXx**

"Potter!"

Harry groaned, unwilling to wake up. He was having the most horrible nightmare, but his mind didn't want to come out of it for some reason…

"Go away Dudley."

The hands shook him more powerfully this time, and something told him that they weren't Dudley's hands…they were much too skinny to belong to Diddykins…

Harry blinked his eyes open; shutting them immediately upon the sight of light pouring in through the window. It was morning.

After several seconds, he looked over at the person in the chair next to his bed and howled in shock: it was Snape! What was Snape doing here?! He bolted up so quickly that he fell off the bed, landing roughly on the stone-laden ground below. Unable to hide his panicked bewilderment, he leaped to his feet once more and took in his surroundings. This wasn't his room…and this wasn't Hogwarts either…

"Where am I?" he wondered aloud, forgetting that Snape was in the room.

"Leaky Cauldron, Potter, now _sit down_," he ordered the boy, who complied at once, much to the professor's surprise.

As his vision cleared, Harry realized with a start that it hadn't been a nightmare at all: accidentally wandering into Knockturn Alley…getting cornered by the group of Dark witches and wizards…the uncontrollable riot…the throbbing pain and river of blood from his leg…and that horrendous _burning_ feeling that had engulfed his entire body…

He looked down at his arms. They were back to normal, not the blistering blood-red color he had vaguely noticed in the darkness of the previous night. He looked further down his body and saw his left leg bandaged tightly, but there was no blood in sight.

"How…how did you…what happened?" he asked lamely, unsure of which questions to ask first.

"Your kneecap was shattered in nine places, but as long as you continue resting, the potion I gave you will have you fully mended within an hour. You were also poisoned, Potter, but you are cured now," Snape finished explaining as much as he could, not wanting to give Potter any room for further questions.

"How'd you cure me? How…how did we escape? How did you…"

Snape held up a small, stone-like object, silencing Harry instantly. "If you had paid any attention in my class at all last year, Potter, you would have known that all I needed was a bezoar."

Harry blinked, not exactly willing to admit to his cranky professor that he had completely forgotten all about bezoars and their uses against poisons.

"As for getting away, we Disapparated. Now no more questions," he added impatiently.

"But…"

"_Did you hear me, Potter?"_

"Yes sir," Harry gulped nervously, diverting his attention to his wand. He fingered the smooth holly wand with a sense of fondness; until he remembered that he had performed magic illegally with it the night before. The thought of how much trouble he would be in later made him cast the wand aside as though it was a cursed object.

"Now I'll let you change," said Snape stiffly as he glanced over Harry's ragged appearance. "You need to buy your school supplies today, since I assume you were too busy exploring Knockturn Alley yesterday to do so, yes?"

"Yes sir," Harry repeated. "But sir…if I could just ask one more question…why are you here?"

Snape scowled in frustration. "_Because_ Potter…the headmaster has instructed me to watch over you for the rest of your summer, and ensure your safe return to Hogwarts come September first. After that, I can assure you that I will only have to see you in Potions class…and detention, of course," he added with a nasty smirk plastered to his face.

Not wanting to further aggravate Snape, Harry nodded quickly and carefully limped away to change into fresher clothes, since there were dried stains of blood splattered onto his robes from the brawl the night before.

An hour later, Harry was walking— no limp in his step whatsoever— down the sunny street of Diagon Alley, feeling rather uncomfortable as his most-hated teacher followed closely behind. Snape wasn't overly thrilled about the circumstances either, but he was too busy distressing over what had happened the night before to care.

What if he hadn't shown up and Harry had eventually been poisoned? In all his years in studying the art of potion-making, he had never seen a potion create that sort of reaction before. The fact that Potter wouldn't have remembered about the bezoar troubled him greatly.

Also, two people had been found dead early this morning after the riot was ended by the Ministry's team of Aurors. What if Potter had been hit by the Killing Curse? There was no doubt in Snape's mind that Dumbledore would have killed him if he had allowed the boy to die under his protection.

He considered himself fortunate that the Ministry was trying to hush it all up; he had personally used the Cruciatus Curse on two people that had tried to attack Harry before he managed to Disapparate with the injured boy. Also, the man who had been hit with Snape's _Sectumsempra_ curse was currently being treated at St. Mungo's. At least the skirmish had been so chaotic that nobody knew who had cursed who, and it looked like most of the brawlers would get off without any punishment at all.

His mind still dazed from all of the madness, Snape absentmindedly followed Harry into the apothecary. The boy roamed the shelves with his Hogwarts checklist for some time, and then he finally paused at the books section. He picked up the book he needed for the year, but then, in a subtle effort to impress his professor, he picked up a copy of Advanced Potion Making and shuffled through it.

"Potter, considering that you have the potion-making skills of a Squib, I find it highly unnecessary for you to try and get ahead," Snape grabbed the book out of Harry's hands and smacked it behind the boy's head before returning it to its place on the shelf. Harry glared at the man; he was just trying to prove to Snape that he held _some_ interest in Potions. He had no idea what a Squib was, of course, but he knew that Snape's comment couldn't possibly have been a compliment…

"Severus?" a cold, silvery voice came from behind Harry and Snape as they waited to pay for Harry's supplies at the front counter. Both of them turned around to see who it was, and while Snape looked mildly surprised by the new visitors, Harry was downright infuriated. It was Draco Malfoy and his father.

"Hello Lucius…Draco," Snape acknowledged the boy with a quick nod.

"_Potter?_" Draco said incredulously, looking from Harry to Snape with a shocked expression on his face. What was he doing here, shopping for _school_ supplies? Did the stupid elf actually _lie_ to his master?

"Malfoy," Harry replied icily, not wanting to start a fight now…not when his guardian was Malfoy's favorite teacher…

"So…this is the great Harry Potter, hmm?" Lucius whispered as he crept closer. He looked up at Snape, waiting expectantly for an answer. Snape nodded bitterly, and Lucius walked closer still.

"Forgive me, but…" he held up his serpent-headed cane and pushed the untidy black hair back on Harry's forehead without his consent. Harry glared at the man, and without thinking, he smacked the cane away from his head.

Lucius didn't look angered by this, but rather _amused_. "The boy has an attitude, doesn't he?" he chuckled joylessly and brought his attention back up to Snape. "Why Severus, you never told me you would be escorting Harry Potter…"

"The boy's relatives were being, ah…_difficult_. The headmaster thought he would be well-suited under my care until he returns to school."

"Is that so?" Lucius' left eyebrow rose in curiosity. "Very well, Severus, enjoy the rest of your summer…_come_ _Draco_!"

Draco completely ignored Harry as though he didn't exist and looked up at Snape, bowing his head respectfully. "Good day, professor."

Without another word, the two Malfoys hurriedly departed the shop without purchasing anything, leaving Harry fuming on the spot.

**xXxXxXxXx**

By the end of the day, all that Harry had left to purchase was a new set of quills. Every last ounce of Snape's patience had vanished hours ago, and he was now cursing Dumbledore vehemently under his breath.

As they rounded the corner, Harry's attention was immediately seized by a shining new broomstick that was so carefully protected behind the closest shop front's window. He ran over and stared greedily at the broom: it was a Nimbus Two Thousand and _One_. Groaning inwardly at Potter's obsession with all things Quidditch, Snape begrudgingly followed the boy over to the window.

"Perhaps your glasses aren't working properly, Potter, but your checklist says 'quills.' I do not see any quills in this shop."

"But I just…"

"Potter can you possibly hide this arrogance of yours for once in your _life_?!" Snape snapped at him, impatient to get back to the Leaky Cauldron so he could be alone without constantly worrying about Potter's safety.

Harry blinked. He wondered why Snape was talking as though he had known him his entire life. The professor had only known him for a year, after all…

But as Harry looked back at the gleaming reflection of the drool-worthy broom, he felt a wave of horror come over him. His broom…his Nimbus Two Thousand…it wasn't at the Leaky Cauldron…he had cleaned out his entire trunk last night…how did he not notice?! His broom was still at the Dursleys!

"My broom!" he yelled as he pounded on the front window without realizing what he was doing; this startled Snape, who was previously standing calmly next to him.

"What now, Potter?" he asked exasperatedly.

Harry flurried around to face him with fearful apprehension washing over him like a cold shower. "My broom! It's still at my aunt and uncle's house…they took it away and we forget to get it with the rest of my stuff!"

Snape sighed. So this was Potter's next great crisis. What a drama queen. His broom was gone. So what? He didn't _need_ his precious broom anyways. "Potter we are _not_ returning to that house…"

"BUT I NEED MY BROOM!" Harry roared, causing several passersby to look up in alarm.

"_Potter_! This is not the time for arguing…"

"But sir! I'm Gryffindor's seeker! I need my broom! _Please!_" he pleaded, but this only angered his guardian more.

"POTTER!" Snape bellowed, his black eyes flashing threateningly as Harry's wild green eyes glared up defiantly at him.

"I can't go back to Hogwarts without my broom!"

Harry nearly went as far as to shout about how Snape was the most prejudiced person he had ever met— since he probably didn't give a damn about Gryffindor's chances in winning the Quidditch cup— but luckily, he managed to hold his tongue.

"POTTER! I _SAID_…" Snape reluctantly trailed off as a pack of perhaps one hundred people suddenly rounded the corner, muttering animatedly amongst themselves. Both of Snape and Harry stopped their arguing at once, not wanting to create a scene.

"So back to what I was saying about my latest book…why, Severus? Could that possibly be you out here broad daylight?"

Perhaps Harry was imagining it, but Snape's mouth seemed to twitch crossly at the sight of this pompous-looking blonde wizard. He was wearing extremely tight gray leggings and a vibrant cerulean-blue cloak; all of the surrounding women squealed with delight when he smiled charmingly towards Harry and Snape.

"Gilderoy," Snape acknowledged his new colleague through tightly clenched teeth.

"Who is your friend, Severus?" Gilderoy Lockhart waved his many admirers back and sauntered forward to get a better look at Harry. His eyes automatically traveled up to Harry's scar, and he nearly jumped backwards in astonishment.

"_Why_…could it really be? _Harry Potter?_"

Harry felt the heat rise to his cheeks as the people in Gilderoy fellow's entourage let out collective gasps of excitement. Seeing that Potter had somehow found himself in the limelight again, Snape scowled, but remained stonily silent.

"Yes sir," Harry replied shyly, not quite sure if he liked all this newfound attention.

"Oh, _excellent!_" Gilderoy yanked Harry away from Snape's side and spun him around to face the crowd of people behind him. "Everyone, I know you can't believe your eyes, but you are looking at my good friend, Harry Potter! Also known as The-Boy-Who-Lived, as I'm sure you all know! Smile, Harry—" he hissed so quietly so only Harry could hear as several photographers came rushing onto the scene. "—and Harry, my dear boy, I know how anxious you must be to find a place where my new book, 'Magical Me' isn't sold out…"

Harry, feeling completely disorientated by this strange man, looked back at Snape for support. He found none, however, and Gilderoy soon wrenched him back to face the crowd.

"…so here's a complete collection of my works…_free of charge!_"

Everyone clapped enthusiastically at the man's wit and kindness, but Harry really found himself squirming by now, and tried unsuccessfully to get away.

"Of course, you'll be needing that one," Gilderoy eagerly pointed at one of the books that had been piled into Harry's arms. "Seeing that I'm your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year! Eh? Isn't that magnificent, Harry? I'm sure we'll have a splendid time…"

Suddenly, Gilderoy looked back at Snape as though he was checking to see if he was still present. Indeed, Snape was there: staring at them with a murderous expression.

"Oh Severus, no need to look so glum! I mean, I know you've wanted the post _forever_—" Harry was startled to see the already-frightening expression on Snape's face grow even more menacing than he believed was possible, "—but there's always next year! I always do grow bored of redundancy…perhaps I'll need to get back to the old 'saving-the-world' job once I grow bored with teaching anyways!"

Harry was surprised Snape didn't take out his wand and use a killing curse on Gilderoy right then and there. However, judging by the look on his face, he was definitely considering it, and it was taking all of his patience not to do so…

Not wishing to continue gawking at his possibly-homicidal Potions teacher and wanting to get away from this crazy Gilderoy Lockhart fellow, Harry awkwardly settled his attention on the shiny new Nimbus in the window to his left.

Lockhart followed his gaze and beamed once he found that Harry looking at the broom. "Ah, so you like Quidditch, do you now?"

Harry nodded numbly, thinking of his broom still at the Dursleys…

"You know, I was once captain of a team that won the World Quidditch Cup four years in a row! I was their prized Keeper…never let a single Quaffle get by me in all my years of playing…"

Harry nearly snorted at this blatant lie, but managed to muffle it with a well-disguised cough.

"So, are you thinking of buying that broom, Harry? A fine choice, I must say…"

"Actually, Potter already owns a broom," an icy voice cut in from behind the two.

Harry looked back at Snape, whose expression hadn't changed much, but he at least felt comforted by the fact that his loathing was directed at Lockhart, instead of him for once…

"And we were just leaving to get it," Snape added acrimoniously, not quite believing what he was saying. Desperation forced him to do it; he wouldn't last another second of his new colleague's mockery of his continual failure to gain the Defense post after eleven years of teaching without first killing the man out of aggravation…

Harry stared blankly at Snape, not sure if he had heard him correctly. Did he really just agree to go back to the Dursleys to get his old broom?

Noticing the baffled look on Potter's face, Snape nodded his reluctant consent. Harry grinned ecstatically at this confirmation; he quickly jerked his way out of Lockhart's grasp and joined Snape, who was now looking extremely smug. Gilderoy Lockhart, supposedly the most charming wizard in the world, was just snubbed by Harry Potter. Somehow, the boy's fame had worked in Snape's favor for once.

"I'll…I'll see you at Hogwarts, then…right Harry?" Gilderoy frantically tried regaining his composure after this, but Harry ignored him; he was too busy relishing his good fortune that Snape had agreed to go and get his beloved broom back…

* * *

_Thank you to all of my reviewers. I'm extremely pleased with the response from chapter one. I wouldn't mind another review, of course ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling, therefore I don't own Harry Potter._

* * *

Mrs. Figg, resident of Wisteria Walk, rarely ever had company over. Most people found the offensive smell of her cat-infested house to be intolerable; therefore, she usually spent her evenings alone.

Of course, there was that pleasant little visit from Dumbledore a few days ago, asking her to confirm if her neighbor, Harry Potter, was under house arrest by his relatives. Remembering the obnoxious clanging and banging of Vernon putting up those bars outside of the poor boy's only window— not to mention the shouting that had ensued once those other Muggles departed the Dursley residence— she informed the headmaster that yes, the boy was indeed being held captive by his relatives.

After that brief encounter, she returned once more to her Muggle way of life; having no contact with anyone, whether it was by Floo or owls.

So, it came as a surprise one evening, as she sat knitting a scarf for one of her favorite cats, when the orange fire in her sitting room fireplace transformed into magnificent green flames.

Startled by the sudden change, Mrs. Figg tossed her knitting aside and waited anxiously for her new visitor. She was used to wizards not asking her for permission to enter her home via the Floo Network; she had already informed Dumbledore that he was free to send people to her home without her prior consent, since she knew it would almost always be for her neighbor's safety.

Still, she was somewhat shocked to see none other than Severus Snape walk through the bright flames, followed by Harry. She knew the boy hated his relatives, and she found it hard to hide her surprise in seeing him return to Little Whinging so soon.

As he got up— it was painfully obvious he had never used the Floo before— he looked around in bewilderment, until his attention landed on her. She smiled as pleasantly as possible, but she knew it must have astonished him that she, of all people, was connected to the wizarding world. The fact that she had never told him this in all his times visiting her must have been pretty frustrating as well.

"Mrs. _Figg?_" he inquired childishly, still not believing whose house he just Flooed into. Glancing around at the masses of cats strewn about the place, however, he figured there was no way it _couldn't _be her house. "_You're_ a witch? But…"

"Squib," she corrected him, but he only stared back blankly, looking no less baffled than before.

"But—"

"That's enough, Potter," Snape snapped at him then directed his attention to Mrs. Figg. "My apologies for coming this late…"

"Oh Severus, there's no need to apologize—"

"—but it appears that Potter left his beloved broomstick at his relatives and _stubbornly demanded_ that he came back to retrieve it," Snape finished tersely with a glare in the boy's direction. He squirmed in place, unwilling to further upset the man, lest he turn back and leave without even looking for his Nimbus Two Thousand.

"We won't be long…_right Potter?_," Snape hissed under his breath at Harry.

"Yes sir," he replied instantly and he and Snape exited the house, having no time to stay and chat with the woman if they wanted to be back to Diagon Alley before morning.

Once they found their way onto the shadowy street of Privet Drive, Harry grimaced. Had he really only been away for just two days? It felt like it had been two lifetimes since he had seen the Dursleys— not that he was complaining. In case of emergency, he had brought along his Invisibility Cloak. He wasn't sure how Snape planned to get his broom back— a Summoning Charm would no doubt alert the Dursleys to trouble, and neither of them wanted another confrontation with Petunia again— so Harry decided he would just follow Snape's lead and hope for the best.

As they reached the foot of the perfectly manicured lawn of number four, Privet Drive, Snape paused. Harry stopped right next to him and they listened.

The three Dursleys were still awake; in the sitting room by the sounds of it. Dudley was making a loud racket, probably playing his latest video game on one of his many computers.

"Well Potter, you know what to do," Snape nodded for Harry to go up to the door. He stared back into the man's murky black eyes and didn't move.

"Go on, we don't have all night!" Snape snapped at him impatiently, gesturing more forcefully towards the front door.

"But—"

"_Potter!_"

Harry shut his mouth at once, but continued glaring icily up at the enraged expression on his professor's face. He had thought Snape had a plan; instead, he was forcing the entire task of retrieving the broom onto Harry himself.

Harry fidgeted for a moment, unconsciously reaching into his pocket. He couldn't use his wand, of course, but there was something else…something smooth and silvery…

He pulled it out and remembered with a jolt that he had his Cloak with him. He _definitely _didn't want to meet the Dursleys directly if he could avoid it, and invisibly sneaking around the house certainly sounded less time-consuming than having to explain why he was back so soon.

"Sir? I think I'll go in the back way…uh, my aunt doesn't like people using the front door," Harry lied.

He avoided eye contact with Snape as he hurriedly trudged off into the darkness in the direction of the side yard, where Dudley always left the back door open after returning home from beating up toddlers at the local park. It was much less conspicuous this way, and once he was out of sight, he pulled out the Cloak and threw it over himself.

Harry didn't want Snape knowing about his Cloak; it was so useful at Hogwarts when he needed to go somewhere after curfew and he didn't want to provide solid evidence that Snape could use against him once they were back at school.

Meanwhile, Snape didn't wish to be seen idly staring up at the Dursley home this late at night, so he cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself and leaned against a nearby lamppost, hoping that Potter would keep his promise about making this a quick trip. At the first sign of trouble, he knew he'd have to go in after the boy, but for now, he would remain outside. He would hardly be of much use in finding the damned thing; he had almost forgotten that Potter even played Quidditch, let alone owned his own broom.

After fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, a panicked sensation washed over Harry. What if the Dursleys destroyed his broom? Surely they wouldn't throw it away— in case the Muggle authorities found a flying broom in their garbage— but he couldn't think of what else they'd do with it.

_Burn it, perhaps_, Harry thought as a chill ran down his spine at the very thought of his beloved broom smoldering in the Dursleys' fireplace. _No, it's got to be somewhere around here, I know it._

It wasn't anywhere upstairs, as far as Harry had searched. His room had been completely cleaned out since his last time in there; there was no evidence that anyone had ever even set foot in the room by the way Petunia had obsessively organized it.

Harry made his way down the stairs and darted into the empty kitchen at the end of the hall; he didn't dare go near the room where the Dursleys sat watching the nightly Muggle news…not until he had looked everywhere else, anyways.

His heart jumped at every sound, because every time he heard something from the other room, he assumed it was the Dursleys moving into the kitchen. He couldn't be caught…Snape would kill him if he was forced to intervene…

After another couple minutes of mindless searching, Harry realized that he was holding his breath. Taking in a big gulp of air, he mentally smacked himself. Why was he so afraid? He had lived here nearly his entire life, and nothing ever attacked him; aside from his uncle and the occasional whacks from Dudley's Smeltings Stick, that is. But still, he had wandered around the much more dangerous corridors of Hogwarts the previous year under this cloak with perfect ease. Heck, he'd even survived meeting Fluffy and later he came— literally— face to face with Voldemort. And yet, he felt more comfortable during those times than here, hiding under an Invisibility Cloak in the fourth home on the Muggle street of Privet Drive. He laughed out loud at the irony of the situation.

_Not good_, Harry thought worriedly as he flung his hands to cover his mouth. But the deed was already done.

"You hear something?" his uncle's voice boomed from the other room. The sound of footsteps immediately ensued, and within seconds, Harry found himself almost directly in front of his aunt and uncle. Dudley was too lazy to come and see what the disturbance was, apparently.

Maybe it was just Harry's imagination, but both of them looked more frenzied than he had ever seen them. Even his normally-composed aunt had a strange, wild look about her that he hadn't noticed before. Maybe Snape's visit had rattled them?

He wasn't sure, but he knew one thing: to stay out of their way. If they caught him sneaking around their home— under a wizard's Invisibility Cloak at that— he'd be _dead_.

Continuing to hold his hands over his mouth, Harry cautiously backed up towards the opposite end of the kitchen. Petunia was staring straight at him for quite some time, but he knew that it was impossible for anyone— magical or not— to see him. They waited for several minutes, as though something was really going to reveal itself as the cause of the noise. Harry didn't stick around much longer once he crept out the door adjacent to the empty living room.

Instead, he made a break for the front door. That had been much too close, and he didn't exactly wish to risk finding out what would happen if the Dursleys somehow found him.

As he ran past the sitting room, however, he saw the most peculiar thing: Dudley, alone and clearly bored, was standing on top of a stool, straddling a broom. Not just any old broom, however: it was Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand.

His mum and dad weren't around to yell at him for touching the awful thing that linked their nephew to the wizarding world, so Dudley took the opportunity while he saw it. He was still terrified of magic, of course, but it seemed as though he secretly still harbored some curiosity about flying broomsticks. That, or he was delighted that his parents had stolen one of Harry's things and had supposedly given it to him.

Harry was so stunned to see Dudley even _touching_ something that was made for wizards that he stared on at the scene in amusement for quite some time, until it snapped in his head that he was here to get his broom back.

Watching out for his aunt and uncle, Harry carefully tiptoed in and rounded to the very edges of the room, where he was assuredly safe from potential contact. Dudley was waddling around with the broom secured between his legs, making zooming noises as he went along. It was glaringly obvious the boy had no previous knowledge of how to mount a broom; not that Harry blamed him, considering that he _was_ a Muggle, but the way he "rode" the broom looked quite _painful_.

_Stupid git_, Harry thought as he idly clenched his fists in his anger over Dudley playing with _his_ broom. He had millions of other toys; why did a broomstick— one that wouldn't even fly unless a witch or wizard was upon it— interest Dudley so much?

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked forward, praying that the cloak would stay on him. Dudley didn't look like he was going to put the broom down anytime soon, so Harry had no other choice but to reach for it.

As Dudley paused from his long "flight" around the living room, Harry darted right next to his pig of a cousin and hesitantly tried yanking the broom out of his grasp. Dudley's grip on it was too strong, however, and it barely budged at Harry's persistent jerking. At this point, Harry knew he was running out of time, so he tried a different tactic: mounting the broom from the backside.

At once, it began to rise, much to both of the boys' horror. For some reason, Harry hadn't expected this, and if Dudley was at the front…then he had complete control of the direction the broom flew if it so chose to take flight.

Harry suddenly felt his cloak start to slip. Holding on to the levitating broom with one hand, he quickly pulled the cloak over his head with the other hand. The broom shook violently from the excess of weight on it; Harry was surprised it didn't snap under his cousin's immensely fat body.

Over Dudley's panicked yelps of terror, Harry heard Petunia scream. He darted his head to the left: there she was, standing next to her oaf of a husband in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Vernon's purplish glow had returned, though the sight of his son near the tip of the ceiling on a broomstick left him utterly speechless.

"_Dudders!_" Petunia wailed as she foolishly ran into the room, and stood directly underneath the broom. She shrieked for him to come down, but it seemed as though Dudley hadn't even heard her; he was too busy screeching at the top of his lungs for someone to save him.

Harry struggled to remain balanced from his awkward position near the tail; Dudley's uncontrollable shaking nearly tossed him off on several occasions, but miraculously, he managed to stay aboard. If he fell off, the cloak would undoubtedly reveal his presence…

All of a sudden, the broom gave a violent shake, and then it was still. For just a few seconds, Harry thought the worst was over….

He was wrong.

Instead, the broom unexpectedly exploded forward with the force of a bullet; Dudley hadn't been prepared for this, and fell backwards, his head hitting Harry in the face. His glasses were knocked off at once, blood started trickling down from his nose, and worst of all: he felt the cloak slowly slip off of his head as the broom soared up the stairs…

Dudley's monstrous head whirled around to see what he had struck: his shrill scream of terror at the sight of Harry's head flying along with him— somehow the rest of Harry's body was still concealed beneath the cloak— was literally earsplitting.

"Dudley, _face_ _forward!_" Harry yelled as loudly as he could, but Dudley was completely oblivious to anything but the nightmarish sight of his cousin's bodiless head following him. His eyes bulged and rolled back into their sockets as the broom rounded the upstairs hallway, shattering the pictures that lined the walls as they went by. His grip seemed to be loosening on the handle, and Harry saw foam fleck the edge's of the boy's mouth. It looked like he was having a seizure, though Harry was pretty sure it was just from his fear of riding a broom in such a small area such at top speed.

Harry tried shoving his cousin forward, but he wouldn't _face_ that direction: he merely slumped over, making the broom plunge sharply downward. Just before they hit the carpet, Harry managed to pull his dead-weight cousin back towards him again. Harry was very close to slipping off the tail of the broom, but thanks to his excellent training as a Seeker the previous year, he was able to remain steady.

Neither boy noticed the chaos downstairs. Instead, they had other problems to worry about: looking over Dudley's shoulder, Harry saw a window up ahead. If Dudley didn't change his position soon, the broom would fly straight through it, ensuring plenty of pain and suffering for each of them. He tried snapping the other boy out of it, but it was no use. He was too petrified with fear to be of any use. Now there was only two or so seconds before they broke through…

"DUDLEY!"

Just as Dudley seemingly regained full consciousness and jerked his head up to face forward, the two soared through the glass window, shattering it into millions of pieces. Glass cut at Harry's face, narrowly missing his eyes on a few occasions. It stung, like several thousand tiny knives slicing through his face and tearing at his clothes, even if he couldn't see them.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion after the crash: they soared through the cool night's sky for a mere second; then Harry heard a terrible snapping sound and gravity instantly set in. They were soon hurtling towards the Earth at a dangerously fast pace. The lampposts of Privet Drive swirled through his head as he spun in the air for what seemed like hours. He was pretty sure he'd hit the asphalt any second now…it would hurt a lot, he knew…but what could he do? It didn't occur to him to use his wand, not that he knew of any spell to save himself with anyways…

Just before Harry was going to plunge headfirst into the ground, he felt some invisible force jerk him back upwards by his ankles. The cloak tore off of his body completely and drifted to the ground, light as a feather.

It appeared that Dudley wasn't so lucky: once Harry felt himself hoisted up by his ankles, he heard a deafening crunch of a body hitting the pavement nearby, followed by a terrible scream that Harry hoped he would never have to hear again.

Blinking away the white spots in his eyes, Harry blurrily noticed a figure dressed in all-black running towards him. He was then gently lowered from this odd, upside-down position in mid-air onto the cool grass.

Looking up from his the place where he was lying, Harry vaguely recognized the man as Snape. His vision was terrible without his glasses, so luckily for Snape, he couldn't see the overly-concerned expression on the professor's normally-scowling face. He whipped out his wand and muttered a few unrecognizable incantations; the bleeding stopped and all of the tiny shards of glass that had been deeply lodged in Harry's face disappeared.

"Are you okay, Potter?" he demanded, though his tone was softer than usual.

Harry nodded dizzily. "Where's Dudley?"

Snape pointed over to where Vernon and Petunia were huddled around Dudley's lifeless figure. Harry could hear his aunt sobbing, but couldn't quite make out where they were. Noticing the way Harry squinted his eyes, Snape quickly Transfigured the boy a new pair of glasses, which he readily took.

Assured that Potter was fine, Snape tugged him up to his feet and they walked over to the three Dursleys.

"My baby's _dying!_" Petunia wailed, caressing Dudley's head in her arms. She looked up and saw Snape quickly approaching, but shrieked at him to stay away. "_You…you killed him! See what you've done?_"

Snape shoved her aside anyways and immediately began waving his wand and began performing healing charms on Dudley's bloodied body. Petunia continued her hysterical sobbing, and pointlessly tried throwing one of her fuzzy pink slippers at Snape's head to make him get away from Dudley. The boy was so still that Harry almost wondered if he really _was_ dead…

"You get away from my son," Vernon growled at him, though he hung back, somewhat fearful of visions of what a full-grown wizard could do to him. Snape paused, looked up at Vernon, and then turned his attention back to the boy, pretending he hadn't heard a word Vernon said. He swore under his breath, but made no further attempts to get Snape away from Dudley, fearing more for his life than the boy's. Harry noticed that he was looking quite faint, a rarity for a man with such vibrant skin tones than always seemed to match whatever mood he was in.

The longer Snape took to heal him, the louder Petunia's sobs grew. By now, she seemed to possess a faint understanding that magic was necessary to save Dudley, but she still wasn't happy about it.

"Get away! _Get away!_" she hissed at Snape once she had used up all her patience, and tried pushing him away from Dudley.

Snape tried jostling her back, but that only made her shove him harder. Shrugging indifferently, he stood up and muttered a quick spell that siphoned the dried blood off of his robes.

"Have it your way…oh, unless you were hoping he'd survive…?"

Petunia stared at him— tears streaked all over her horsey face— and after a few moments of thinking about it, she backed away; a subtle, yet obviously reluctant invitation for him to go back to saving her son by use of magic.

After another two minutes, Snape stood up once more, ignoring the horrorstruck looks on the Dursleys' faces. Harry was shocked they even allowed Snape to hold a wand over their precious Diddykins' body, let alone perform magic on him.

Then again, from what Harry had previously seen, their choice was to either let Dudley bleed to death or put aside their lifelong grudges against magic in order to save him.

"I've stopped the bleeding," Snape informed them, but didn't make eye contact. "But he's suffered quite a concussion. It'd be wise to take him to St. Mungo's just to be safe."

"St. _Mun_—" Petunia whispered inaudibly, too appalled to even finish the word. Everything went silent among the three adults for several moments. As usual, Vernon looked sorely confused, but Petunia was shaking in fear. Harry wondered why they hadn't gone on blaming him for nearly killing Dudley yet. Perhaps they didn't even realize he was there?

"You _do_ remember where St. Mungo's is, yes?" Snape cocked an eyebrow at Petunia curiously.

Much to Harry and Vernon's surprise, Petunia nodded, looking extremely pale. Her sister had gone there during the summer before her third year at that freak school. Her parents had wanted to see their favorite daughter, and Petunia had so unfortunately been dragged along to that awful place…full of freakish people with their ridiculous wizard's wear and wands…

She looked up at Snape, then back to her only son. St. Mungo's was a wizard's hospital. Dudley would be fine at a Muggle hospital, where people were more normal and _professional_. She didn't need any _magic_ to save him, the Muggle doctors would certainly suffice if it was just a concussion…

"He's not going!"

Snape, whom had begun walking back to Harry, turned around and smirked. "Oh? Then I'll love you hear how you explain to the Muggle healers when your son wakes up with recollections of flying on a broom."

Vernon and Petunia both twitched at the last couple words Snape said. This left them with no other options for Dudley, though Vernon wasn't finished raging just yet.

He had finally noticed Harry, standing behind the place where Dudley lay in the darkened street. His temple was throbbing obnoxiously, and he looked as though he was quite capable of murdering Harry once and for all…

"_You ruddy little bastard_…" Vernon roared as he flung himself towards Harry, ready to tackle the boy to the ground and beat him to a pulp for what he did to his son. He wrung out his pudgy hands in front of him, as though he was showing Harry how he would strangle him once he got his hands around his neck. When he was just a single stride away from Harry, he was suddenly jerked up into the air by his ankles. His infuriated roar at this interference seemed to echo throughout the streets of the neighborhood, no doubt waking several of their neighbors up. He'd never experienced this before, and knowing that a _wizard_ caused this discomfort enraged him even more.

Harry held back a snort of laughter at his uncle hanging there, upside-down like a stuffed human-piñata. Maybe it was because of all the blood rushing to his head, but Vernon's face seemed to swell up like an overblown birthday balloon. What was more interesting, he was held by the same exact spell Snape had used to save Harry from hitting the ground earlier. He _had_ to figure out what spell that was!

Casually walking past the place where Petunia stood— gaping at the figure of her husband hanging in the air as though by some invisible rope— Snape held his wand steady and called up to the beefy man: "As much as I'd _love_ to leave you there all night, I'm afraid we need to get the boy to the hospital or his memories will be permanently distorted from lack of medical treatment."

Vernon's eyes nearly popped out of his head at the mention of Dudley possibly suffering from memory loss. As much as he wanted to howl and rage at this…this…this _wizard_…he had no choice if he wanted to get down here and— hopefully— save his son.

With a lazy flick of his wand, Snape released him; though he didn't bother cushioning his fall as he did for Harry.

"Oh…oh my goodness! Severus…what _happened?_" Mrs. Figg came hustling up the street with two cats trailing behind her. She surveyed the scene and gasped when her eyes finally rested on Dudley's lifeless body. "Oh! Is the boy…?"

"Alive, believe it or not," Snape cut her off impatiently. "Would you be so kind to escort the Dursleys to St. Mungo's? The boy had an…_accident_ and will need memory modification and corresponding treatments for his injuries."

Mrs. Figg blinked. It was such a high honor for a Squib to escort people to St. Mungo's…she nodded her head eagerly and motioned for the Dursleys to follow her. They didn't follow however; they stupidly turned their heads back to Snape.

"Go!" he snapped at them in a very professor-like tone. They immediately started following Mrs. Figg, though they were terrified at the thought of what Snape might be doing to their boy while their backs were turned…

"Wait here, Potter," Snape ordered the boy, then pointed his wand at Dudley and muttered: "_Mobilicorpus_."

The body lifted up into the air and followed the path Snape's wand ordered it to, down onto the next street and into Mrs. Figg's home. Once Harry was alone, he quietly stuffed the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket and ran over to what remained of his broom in the middle of the street. When he saw just how bad the damage was, he felt his heart drop like a stone. It was completely shattered into hundreds of pieces, very much like the window he and Dudley had crashed through a mere half hour ago.

Twigs from the tail of the broom were strewn out all over the front yard, and the handle looked as though it had been mistaken for a pig in a butcher's shop. He thought he heard a small _pop_ somewhere behind him, but his grief blocked out any other distractions for the time being.

With the Dursleys finally gone, Snape silently exited Mrs. Figg's home. He looked out towards number four, Privet Drive, where Harry was on his knees under a single streetlamp, holding what remained of his first broom. He watched as the boy mournfully reached down for one of the several chunks of the handle, and upon his touch, it turned into a pile of ash.

Trying not to pity the boy, Snape strolled over and paused next to him, choosing not to say anything for a while. Harry was fully aware of his presence, but nothing mattered right now except that he, Gryffindor's Seeker, had just totaled his first and only broom.

"Can you fix it?" he whispered to Snape, holding just a small pile of parts from the broomstick up to the elder wizard. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to say there was nothing he could do. He'd already troubled himself enough with the boy's crises; he didn't need to keep helping him again and again!

Harry's head turned slightly, waiting expectantly for an answer. _What a child,_ Snape thought distastefully as he noticed a single tear slide down the boy's cheek. He was what, twelve? Certainly old enough not to cry over a bloody broom, for God's sake…

And then, they made eye contact. Snape had tried avoiding it, but it was inevitable. He saw more tears flitting around the edges of Harry's eyes…those devastatingly familiar green eyes…still torturing his heart after all these years…as much as he tried to fight it, he soon felt his anger and frustrations with Potter melt away…maybe _one_ more time wouldn't be so bad…it might even get the boy to finally ignore him for the rest of the week…and so he conceded to help.

_Damn you, Potter…if you didn't have your mother's eyes, I swear I would have said no_.

**xXxXxXxXx**

"Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"What…what spell was that?"

"What spell, Potter?"

"That one you used to save me."

Snape froze. The boy was asking about his personally-invented _Levicorpus_ spell. He knew the consequences of telling a Potter about that spell…he wouldn't make the same mistake again…

"It's too advanced for you.'

"Can't you just tell me what it was?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not a good excuse!"

"_Potter!_"

Harry, about to retort that he was only asking for the name; shut his mouth and settled for glaring at Snape instead. He may well be trying to repair his seemingly-irreparable broom, but that didn't stop him from being irritated with the man's stubbornness.

Snape normally wouldn't have cared whether or not Potter knew, but he definitely wasn't going to make the same mistake with Harry as he had with James Potter…

* * *

_It was a lovely day. The sun was shining, and it was so warm outside that several of the students were out swimming in the lake. Even Severus Snape, normally the gloomiest student at Hogwarts, felt slightly cheered by the coming of summer. He was sitting under a tree near the shores of the lake, reading the new Defense book Lily had bought him for Christmas but he hadn't had time to read until now. _

_He was left to himself for a few hours of peaceful bliss, but naturally, this nearly-perfect day had to be ruined at some point for Severus, and indeed it was: down the grassy slope came James Potter, alone and headed straight for Severus. _

"_Hey Snivellus…woah, what's the rush?" fourteen year-old James laughed as Severus dropped his book and leaped to his feet, pulling out his wand at the sight of James Potter approaching him. _

"_Go away Potter," Severus threatened him, but this only made the boy laugh louder. He was so irritatingly arrogant, even without his other friends around. Severus took at step closer towards the other boy, holding his wand even with his forehead. "I mean it."_

_James narrowed his eyes. "I don't like your tone, Snivvy. Maybe this will…__**argh!**__"_

_Just as James had begun to pull out his wand, Severus angrily slashed his through the air before the other could even react. Within a fraction of a second, the Gryffindor boy was jerked up into the air by his ankles. He looked quite idiotic dangling up there, much to Severus' satisfaction. _

_However, James' initial shock didn't last long, and his expression transformed into one of delight at this new spell. Everything was spilling out of his pockets from his upside-down position, but he ignored them; they weren't that important if Snape so chose to steal them. _

_Severus frowned. That wasn't the reaction he had been hoping for…that little prat…he wasn't supposed to be _enjoying_ it…he was supposed to feel humiliated!_

_Loving the infuriated look on Snape's face, James lazily crossed his arms as his body slowly swiveled around in circles and called out to the other boy: "This is some excellent magic…what do you call it?"_

"_Levicorpus," Severus replied through clenched teeth, not once pausing to think of the consequences of this action. He felt both an immense hatred for the boy and a burst of pride at the idea that one of his personally-created spells had managed to surprise Potter. _

_It wasn't until the following year that Severus learned why Potter had looked so gleeful after their encounter last summer…that awful day in their fifth year, when he used Levicorpus against its creator, thus leading into one of the worst memories in Snape's entire life…_

* * *

If there was anything Snape learned from that disastrous mistake, it was _never teach a Potter anything he might use against you_.

Including Harry, seeing that he was a splitting image of James and because Snape later learned after Harry's first year that it was Granger whom had set him on fire at the boy's first Quidditch match. If he and his friends didn't care if they assaulted teachers this early on in their Hogwarts careers, what would stop them from later using his own spells against him?

Snape blinked as sunlight washed through the windows of their room at the Leaky Cauldron. Was it morning already?

Looking down at the still-hopeless heap of broomstick pieces, Snape sighed and looked over at Harry. He looked completely exhausted, but he had repeatedly refused to go to sleep— even at Snape's persistent nagging— until he heard the verdict on his broom's condition.

"Well, sir?" he asked timidly, fearing the worst. His broom still looked as though someone had let twenty Bludgers attack it…surely Snape wasn't finished yet…?

"I can't repair it, Potter."

"_What?! _But _sir!_ Can't you try harder?"

Snape cringed and looked away as all hope disappeared from the boy's pleading green eyes. He'd already wasted an entire night for Potter: first retrieving the broom, and then trying to fix it. He _was not_ going to give in again…

The boy remained silent for a few moments, wondering if Snape was thinking it over. After a while, he realized that the professor probably wasn't going to try any longer, so he tried a different tactic.

"Sir?"

Snape let out another exasperated sigh and looked back over to where Harry was now on his feet, looking hopeful again. _Uh-oh…_

"Sir…I think Quality Quidditch Supplies might be able to repair it…could we try going there today?"

It took every ounce of patience for Snape not to bang his head against a nearby wall. If Gryffindor's prized Seeker went back to Hogwarts without a broom, he harbored no doubt in his mind that Minerva would be livid. Murderous, even; judging by how competitive she became whenever Quidditch was mentioned. She would probably claim that Snape destroyed Harry's broom on purpose, since he too, had expressed a desire for his house to win the Quidditch Cup this year. But what Head of House _didn't_ want their team to win? Snape would never go as far as to _cheat_ in order to win…if cheating was the only way to win, then why bother?

Apparently he didn't have a choice now. Either Potter went back to Hogwarts with a functional broom, or Minerva would personally get revenge on the Slytherin team, something Snape would much rather avoid.

"Fine Potter."

Harry's glum expression dissolved into one of pure ecstasy. In fact, he looked so overjoyed that Snape feared for a moment that the boy would hug him. Luckily, he maintained his distance— Snape would have _Sectumsempra'd_ every limb off the boy's body if he had attempted to hug him— and he excitedly began putting his shoes on, ready to go, oblivious to Snape's longing to recover his lost night's rest.

Dumbledore did _not_ pay him enough to do this.

**xXxXxXxXx**

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but this broom is irreparable."

Snape was afraid of that. Sure, he had been somewhat prepared to hear this— not that he told Potter this— but it still didn't soften the blow of wasting the last twenty four hours of his time helping Potter to find a broom that would eventually be destroyed anyways.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't take the news so well.

"What do you mean? You're a Quidditch shop owner! Shouldn't you be able to repair brooms?"

His eyes flashed angrily at the elderly, yet muscular man behind the counter. He looked slightly uncomfortable from having to explain to the famous Harry Potter that he couldn't fix the boy's severely damaged Nimbus Two Thousand.

"I _can_ repair them, Mr. Potter, in _most_ circumstances. However," he held up the dirty sack that contained what was left of Harry's broom. "You are missing a vital piece. To say it plainly, you're missing its 'flight chip.'"

"Flight chip?" Harry asked, looking baffled. "What's that got to do with this?"

"It's a small, heavily enchanted bit of wood embedded in the broomstick's handle…without it, the broom is nothing more than a Muggle cleaning instrument."

"Well, don't you sell some of them here, then?" Harry demanded, feeling the elated sensation in his chest sinking every second.

The shop manager laughed. "Oh no, no, no! Those are extremely rare when separate from the broom, and we aren't permitted to carry them here. Even if you were to get your hands on one, the broom would fly much slower than it did previously. Mr. Potter, I'm very sorry, but by the looks of it…you're better off getting a new broom."

Harry's heart plummeted. "But…I can't afford a new broom…"

"What about a Permanent Flying Charm?" Snape inquired sharply. He didn't know loads about Quidditch, but he still knew more than the average witch or wizard. After all, in his years as a referee in Hogwarts' Quidditch matches, he had seen just about everything there was to see in Quidditch by now, except for the death of a player, perhaps.

The shopkeeper thought this over, but after a few moments, he shook his head. "It would certainly make the broom fly, Mr. Snape, but it'd be uncontrollable. Mr. Potter would have no say in which height or direction he'd wish to go in."

_Well that won't work, then_, Harry thought sourly. The Seeker was a very precise position; without control, there was no way he'd ever even come close to catching the snitch. Feeling a wave of depression wash over him, Harry stared glumly towards the entrance to the shop, where the newer, faster Nimbus Two Thousand and One sat in all its glory in the front window. Several first year boys were gathered around it, looking awestruck by the sheer beauty of the world's fastest broom.

Being not much older than the other boys, Harry felt himself mesmerized as well, until reality kicked back in, that is. He sorrowfully remembered that his only choices left at this point were to either leave Gryffindor's team or spend the next season flying on the school's mind numbingly-slow brooms. So much for his excellent record as Hogwart's youngest Quidditch player in a century…

"I'm going outside, professor," he didn't bother looking up at Snape as he said this, but it didn't matter if this was disrespectful or not. Harry couldn't stand to stay in here much longer; not when he knew that his up-and-coming Quidditch career was now going down in flames.

As he walked past the new Nimbus, Harry purposely diverted his attention to the Quidditch goggles hanging on the opposite wall, so that he may not be tempted on his way out. He knew there was no way he could purchase himself a new broom, unless he wished to live in poverty for the rest of his years at Hogwarts. His parents may have had a lot more money in Gringotts than the Dursleys had ever spent on him, but by no means did that mean a fortune…

_Stupid_ _Dudley_, Harry thought furiously as he kicked the door open and went outside to sit on a nearby wooden bench. If Dudley hadn't messed with his broom, Harry would have easily retrieved it from the Dursleys and he'd be cheerfully finishing his summer assignments right now, rather than pointlessly searching for someone to miraculously repair his irreparable broom.

The Dursleys had always managed to mess things up for him. Once he had discovered the wizarding world, Harry had thought that he had finally found a place where the Dursleys had no effect on him. It appeared that he had been sorely mistaken, however, and now his favorite pastime in the entire world had unfairly been taken away thanks to Dudley's foolishness.

Of course, deep down, Harry knew it wasn't _all_ Dudley's fault, but it sure made him feel better to place all of the blame on him for now…

Back in the shop, Snape figured that he had done everything imaginably possible to help Potter and his great broom crisis. He'd gone to the trouble of returning to Privet Drive, healed Potter and his corpulent cousin when they exploded through the window, gave up an entire night's sleep to try and restore the broom to its original state, and now he took Potter all the way down to this broom shop. There was _nothing_ left he could do that he hadn't done already.

Nodding his head to the shopkeeper, Snape grabbed the sack of broken broom pieces and began walking out. He absentmindedly tried shoving the sack into his pocket, but for some odd reason, it wouldn't fit.

Mystified by this, Snape paused in the middle of the shop and reached into his pocket. There was a sack with something heavy in it. How had he not noticed this earlier?

Snape figured he was merely too sleep-deprived to really notice that he was carrying so much extra weight. Putting the first sack on the ground, he untied the second mystery sack and peeked inside.

His mouth dropped open at the sight of Galleons upon Galleons inside. He quickly darted his head around to ensure nobody was watching him; otherwise, they'd have thought he just went and robbed Gringotts judging by the sheer amount of gold coins he possessed.

A crumpled piece of parchment lay on the top of the seemingly endless pile of coins. Curious, Snape pulled it out and set the bag at his feet— keeping a watchful eye on it to make sure nobody would run up and steal it from him. The note shouldn't have been such a surprise to him, but it was just so unexpected that Snape couldn't help but feel stunned by the words he read:

_Dear Severus,_

_Thank you for watching over Harry. To express my gratitude, I felt this would suffice. Use it wisely._

_-Albus Dumbledore_

It was a simple note. Snape could almost imagine the old headmaster winking at him as he read the last line. "Use it wisely."

And what was that supposed to mean?!

Looking up once more, Snape's gaze fell immediately on the new Nimbus Two Thousand and One glowing magnificently in the window.

_Use it wisely_, the note had said. Snape connected the two together at once.

_Oh no, no, no! No way!_

There must have been over one hundred Galleons in here. More money than Snape had ever held in his entire life at the same time. Dumbledore had given the bag of money to _him_, not Potter. Therefore, the money was clearly meant for _him_, and would only be used for _him._ Not Potter. Dumbledore hadn't said: "Buy something for Harry." He had written "Use it wisely." Since he had clearly left it up to Snape's interpretation, he didn't need to feel obligated to give away any of _his_ money. Especially to _Potter_.

It was Potter's own damn fault his bloody broom was destroyed. Snape didn't need to feel any sympathy for him; he'd already helped Harry James Potter enough for one lifetime.

And yet, try as Snape did ignore the boy's predicament, he felt his willpower losing ground to his heart…the devastated look on the boy's face as he knelt amongst the remains of his shattered broom…the tears rimming the edges of those haunting green eyes behind the glasses…not to mention the effort Harry was putting forth to be more respectable to him this year…

_You sicken me,_ a small voice said in his mind. _One of the world's greatest Occlumens and you're letting memories of one of your worst students soften you like a pillow…_

_But Harry's Lily's son, _a different voice said calmly. _Do it for Lily…_

_But he's also James Potter's son, _the first voice retorted. _Potters and Quidditch don't go together; you saw how thick-headed James became after he won that first Quidditch Cup…_

_If the boy goes back to Hogwarts without a broom, Minerva will kill you…is a sack of Galleons worth more than your life?_

_But why should you sacrifice your own money to help your rival house win the Cup again?_

Snape ignored the two voices and looked back up at the broom in the window. Never had he felt so conflicted before…sure, as much as Harry Potter had irritated his every last nerve the previous year, he still couldn't stand the sight of him being upset. Grief was something that he had never seen cross James' face, which may have been why it was such a strange sight on his lookalike son's face. He _hated_ admitting that Harry was different than James though; it was so much easier to punish the boy when he smothered his mind with this fallacy.

Forcing himself to look away from the broom, Snape shakily concentrated on the hastily handwritten note that was still in his hands.

_Use it wisely_.

Oh, how those words haunted him.

* * *

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed. This is my first HarryxSnape fic, and the support is very encouraging. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

"Out of my way," Snape snapped at a small boy as he made to exit Quality Quidditch Supplies. With a yelp of terror, the kid launched himself out of the frightening man's path, allowing Snape to get through the door before he even thought of getting up again.

"Let's go Potter," he said absentmindedly as he shoved an old sack into his coat pocket.

Potter said nothing. In fact, he wasn't even there. Feeling a familiar rush of panic come over him, Snape darted anxious glances up and down the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. No Potter in sight.

_Not again,_ he groaned inwardly as he began stomping his way up the street. Although he had only lingered in the shop for a few minutes after the boy's departure, Potter could be anywhere by now. The boy was unsettlingly troublesome when it came to getting himself lost, and it looked like this time was no different…

Just when he thought things couldn't get any crazier, he saw two figures— unmistakably Muggles— wandering the magical street, looking terribly out of place. It was a man and a woman; both of them were darting confused glances at each other and hurriedly looking down at what Snape assumed to be a map. He cringed at the sight of their blue jeans; if Muggle parents were foolish enough to escort their child to Diagon Alley, then the least they could do was _attempt_ to fit in with the crowd of billowing cloaks and long robes around them.

_Dumbledore did mention there were a lot of muggleborns coming to Hogwarts this year, _Snape mused to himself, still finding it odd that these two weren't accompanying their child with his or her school shopping. They looked strangely familiar; where had he seen that woman's bushy brown hair before?

Suddenly, the two looked up, accidentally making full eye contact with Snape. He was the only one in the entire crowd of bustling witches and wizards that was staring at them; much to his dismay, the Muggles must have seen this as an opportunity to ask him for directions. They came jogging towards him, smiling and looking immensely relieved to have found a wizard that could possibly take the time to help them. He half considered sprinting in the opposite direction. Just as he turned around, however, the couple ran in front of him, blocking his path forward.

"Good afternoon," the man panted, holding out his hand in which Snape condescendingly ignored. "We're sorry to bother you, but—"

"—it's your first time here and you've lost your child," Snape finished for him, feeling irritated with the man for assuming that helping _them_ was more important than what _he_ had to do, which was find Potter before Dumbledore killed him for losing the boy so many times.

Snape could tell that the two were taken aback by his sudden rudeness, but he didn't care. He never cared. The only thing he _cared_ about was the upcoming school year, and if the new first year was as irresponsible as its parents, then he was doomed.

"Give me that," he snapped at the woman holding the map.

Startled by Snape's sudden demand, she nearly threw it at him. "We need to get to some place called 'Flourish and Blotts.' Our daughter—"

"Yes of course," Snape mumbled as he stared down at the map— not actually studying it, but instead frantically trying to think of an excuse to get these Muggles away from him.

"Why don't you go ask someone else?"

"No one will help us."

Snape knew this couldn't possibly be the case, but pushing the issue would only annoy both parties even more.

"Have you tried the goblin escorts?" he asked exasperatedly. He _really_ didn't have time to argue with these people…

"They refuse to accompany Muddles."

"_Muggles_," Snape harshly corrected him, feeling his temper rising dangerously.

"Do you know where the place is?" the woman gently prodded him after several moments of silence, trying to sound polite but she only came off as pushy to Snape.

Glaring up at the obnoxious Muggles, Snape tossed them back their stupid map and crossed his arms. Half blood or not, he was still repulsed any time he found himself in the presence of Muggles, even if they had a witch for a daughter. While they couldn't realistically blend in with the other witches and wizards around them, the very least they could have done was watch over their little brat.

"Do you want to know where Flourish and Blotts is?"

The two glanced at each other, then looked back at Snape, nodding their heads vigorously. The woman even offered an encouraging smile, as though showing off her unnaturally white teeth would make Snape more willing to help them.

"Then quit gawking at me and insulting my intelligence!"

The Muggles were once again shocked at Snape's insolence, but remained silent this time. Both looked away uncomfortably, perhaps not having realized they were supposedly 'gawking' at the man.

Snape normally wouldn't have reacted so sourly, but he had no time for these Muggles' ignorance. Of course he bloody well knew where Flourish and Blotts was! Snape also knew that the longer he stalled, the farther away Potter could be by now. Oh, Merlin help him should this be the time where he _truly_ couldn't find Potter…

With a hugely impatient sigh, Snape began spewing out directions as quickly as he could manage: "Head down to the end of that street and take a right and then an immediate left after that. Go past the apothecary and make a left in between Madam Malkin's and the Owl Emporium. Make sure it's not a right, that's Knockturn Alley and you don't want to go down there. Go past Ollivander's and you'll see Gringotts in the distance. Don't go that far, but make a right and you'll be at Flourish and Blott's, now if you don't mind, I must be going…"

"Wait!"

Snape actually stopped and whirled around, looking livid. He gave them perfectly clear instructions; what was wrong with these idiotic Muggles? Surely they weren't _that_ hopeless…

Indeed they were: if they looked slightly confused before, they were completely bewildered now. There was no time to repeat himself, and if he left, he had a horrible feeing that they would follow after him like a pair of helpless puppies.

"Follow me," he barked at them, followed by a string of his favorite swear words under his breath. They followed eagerly, but he pretended to himself that they weren't there. It made him feel better thinking that this little detour would help him as well. Perhaps Potter had gone this way anyways…

"Keep an eye out for a boy with a lightning scar," he muttered, feeling absurd for asking these clueless Muggles to be on the look out for a boy they had never seen before.

"You mean Harry Potter?" the woman asked as she and her husband jogged up behind him.

Snape stopped dead in his tracks and nearly tripped over his feet in shock. While he had expected them to stupidly inquire as to whom the boy was, the fact that they immediately knew his name had caught him _completely_ off-guard.

"I thought you were Muggles," he said quietly, looking at them now as though he had missed something in his prior inspection of the two.

The man grinned. He, too, had dazzling white teeth. "We are, but our daughter is one of Harry's best friends…"

"_Granger?!_" Snape choked. Aside from their physical appearances, he never would have thought these two to be Granger's parents…

Then again, now that he thought about it, the Grangers were very much like their daughter. Insufferable? Most definitely. However, while Hermione was an arrogant little know-it-all, these people clearly knew _nothing_. They couldn't even find their way to the book store after Snape had given them crystal-clear directions to the damn place.

Inwardly, Snape knew they probably weren't as ignorant as they looked, but forcing himself to believe it made him feel better. He hated Muggles. He hated Hermione Jean Granger. Naturally, it only made sense for him to loathe the two people who brought that intolerable nuisance into the world.

"You must be Professor Snape," Mrs. Granger eyed him disdainfully. Her expression was no longer that of gratefulness, but rather, revulsion. The appearance, the coarse attitude, and his negative reaction to their daughter's identity said it all. "Hermione has told us all about you."

Snape silently promised himself that the first fifty house points from Gryffindor would be taken from Granger— one way or another— for this.

"Oh, I'm sure she has."

**xXxXxXxXx**

"Are you sure your parents won't be angry with you for leaving them?"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be a little miffed, but I told them exactly where I was going."

"But—"

"I gave them a map, Harry. It won't be too hard for them to find me."

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes as his friend went back to shelf-surfing. She had spotted him sitting outside of the Quidditch shop a while ago, and insisted that he came along with her to shop for her new books at Flourish and Blott's. Figuring it was better than fuming to himself about his nonexistent Quidditch career, he had eagerly followed. Not once did he consider what Snape would do to him for running off again…

Every couple minutes, another book would be added to Hermione's skyscraper-tall stack of books; most of which weren't required for school, but since she all she did in her free time was read, she needed as many as possible to keep her busy. She was already moaning how she could have gotten started on advanced charms if she hadn't wasted so much time redoing Ron and Harry's homework last year.

"But helping with our homework helps you remember the stuff we learned," Harry protested, secretly worried that Hermione would leave him and Ron to fend for themselves in terms of schoolwork this year.

Hermione stepped down from the ladder with a thick book about basic Transfiguration laws. "I might have believed that if I didn't know you were only saying that so I'll keep doing your homework."

"But—"

"No 'buts' Harry. Now help me find this year's potions book."

They ambled across the aisle of second year-level books and paused at the potions section. Hermione immediately found the book she needed, but Harry remained behind, unconsciously picking up one of the fourth year-level books and flipping through it.

"Well, look at you!" Hermione laughed smugly from behind him.

Startled by Hermione's reaction, Harry hastily shoved the book back to where it belonged and turned around, feeling sheepish under his friend's haughty smirk.

"What?"

"Since when did you take such an interest in Potions?"

"Oh!" Harry gulped. He hadn't even realized what he had done until Hermione pointed it out. "Never…I don't…I just…thought I needed a new book."

She glanced at him oddly as they walked back to her mountain of books that were precariously stacked at the edge of a cramped table. Harry felt that it annoyed him somewhat; he'd only know the girl for a year, after all, and he wasn't _entirely_ used to Hermione's air of hauteur regarding scholastic-related things just yet. Still, she was one of his best friends and he found it hard to stay irritated with her for long.

"Haven't you already gone shopping for your things?"

"Yeah…you'd never guess who—"

"—I'm surprised your relatives let you go so easily this time."

Harry bit his lip. It would be terribly embarrassing admitting that he was actually in Snape's custody until the Hogwarts Express left in a few days. Still, this was Hermione; at least she would understand.

"Well…they didn't exactly let me off 'easily.' Dumbledore—"

"—Dumbledore came and got you?" Hermione looked excited by this prospect, but her face fell when Harry shook his head.

"No, Dumbledore sent Snape."

"_Snape?!_"

"I know, I thought he was mad too," Harry replied glumly. "But he got me away from the Dursleys, at least. My aunt nearly had a stroke, though. They acted funny around each other…I don't know if Snape treats all Muggles like that, but I'd almost swear my aunt knew—"

"—are you okay?" Hermione cut him off, looking incredibly worried at the fact that their grouchy git of a teacher was the one responsible for Harry. "Snape hasn't hurt you or anything, has he? Oh Harry, tell me everything!"

So, for the next quarter of an hour, Harry told her all about his summer: from Dobby's attempts to keep Harry from going to Hogwarts to getting poisoned ("How could you not remember the bezoars?!") to destroying his broom; Hermione heard everything. She was quite a good listener, and didn't interrupt Harry until she was certain he had finished.

"How's your cousin?" Hermione whispered.

"He's going to heal fine. If it weren't for Snape, it would have been me in St. Mungo's," Harry added with a shiver. Thinking of the method in which Snape had saved him from hitting the pavement, Harry looked directly up at his friend. "He used this funny spell on me…something that jerks you up by your ankles in mid-air. Wouldn't tell me what it was, though. Have you ever heard of something like that?"

Puzzlement washed over Hermione's face for a moment then she shook her head. Harry frowned: if anyone knew what Snape's mystery spell could have been, it would have been her.

Unbeknownst to the two second years, Snape and the Grangers had finally found their way over to Flourish and Blotts. While the Grangers went upstairs to prowl the seemingly endless aisles of books for their lost daughter, Snape headed straight for the second-years' section; not bothering to ask the Grangers to follow him again.

As expected, Granger had somehow managed to find Potter and lure him away from the shop where Snape had expected the boy to wait for him as any normal kid would have done for their guardian. Then again, rules didn't apply to Potter…_ever_.

The kids were sitting at a table towards the very back of the book shop, talking in hurried whispers. Snape could hear them from where he stood, and he half considered coming up and yanking Potter out of there, but he decided against it for one reason: kids always said the most interesting things when they assumed no adults were around. Certain that Potter had done his fair share of eavesdropping his previous year at Hogwarts, Snape felt absolutely no regret in doing the same.

"Why do you think Dumbledore sent _Snape_? Surely he couldn't send someone who actually _cared_ about you?"

Snape scowled from his place behind the sixth year-level books. Leave it to Miss Know-It-All to come to hasty conclusions like this.

"Well yeah, but Snape wouldn't explain anything to me, he just said that he was watching over me for the rest of summer, and that's that," Potter replied despondently. "I'm sure he'll be back to his nasty old self once we're back at school."

Snape clenched his fists. That ungrateful little bastard. Did Potter not realize how much he had personally given up for him this summer? How many times had he rescued the brat this past week alone? Three? Four? It felt like ten million times to Snape.

Not to mention the two consecutive sleepless nights Snape had already gone through. The first night, he was busy treating Potter's injuries and making sure the poison didn't spread throughout his body, thus killing him. The second night he wasted fussing over the boy's irremediable broomstick. The lack of sleep was taking its toll on Snape, and he knew he'd snap sooner or later if he didn't get some rest soon…

Intent on dragging Potter back to the Leaky Cauldron, Snape took a step towards the two, but instantly retreated when he saw the familiar face of Draco Malfoy— clearly alone— headed towards Potter and Granger.

"Well if it isn't Potty and Granger…what an unpleasant surprise," Draco spat as he sauntered over to the two Gryffindors.

Hermione glared at him, but managed to stay calm. "Malfoy."

Harry, on the other hand, could not. "Where's your dad, Malfoy? Too embarrassed to be seen in public with his son now?"

"My father's whereabouts are of no concern to you," Draco grinned maliciously. "But where's _your_ dad, Potter?"

Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist just before he managed to get his hands around Malfoy's neck and strangle him. He laughed at the two, clearly excited he had provoked Harry so easily.

"Come on Harry, let's go," Hermione whispered, picking up a stack of her books. Harry angrily followed suit, but Draco stepped in front of them, blocking their path to the front cashier.

"So you're going to Hogwarts after all?" Draco hissed, though there was a tone of uncertainty in his voice as he eyed the books in Harry's hands.

Harry put Hermione's heavy stack of books back on the table and crossed his arms. "Of course I'm going back. Why wouldn't I?"

"My father heard from someone in the Ministry that you were expelled," Draco bluffed.

"If you're talking about that bloody elf—"

Draco laughed. "Pinning the blame on house elves now, are we Potter?"

"I wouldn't blame Dobby if it wasn't true," Harry growled, thinking of how much grief that elf had caused him so far.

"_Dobby_?" Draco yelped, sounding startled but immediately regaining his composure. "Well I can't say I'm surprised the Ministry's letting you off. Everyone's always sickeningly sympathetic to poor, parentless Potter…"

"Shut up Malfoy," Hermione snapped, setting her books down as though she were preparing to fight.

Draco sneered at her. "Sorry Granger, I forgot you have your own set of parent issues. Perfectly understandable of course, I'd be ashamed of my parents too, if they were Muggles."

"I'm _not_ ashamed of them," Hermione replied hotly.

"No need to say it Granger, it's written all over your face. Maybe your worthless parents could learn a thing or two from Potter's—"

"_Shut up!_" Hermione hissed before he could finish his sentence. Harry had his hand in his pocket, ready to pull his wand out, but this only made Draco howl with laughter.

"Using magic outside of school again Potter? Maybe you really will be expelled after all…go ahead, I dare you," he smirked as he tauntingly beckoned Harry to hex him with everything he had. Harry remained where he was; his fingers still gripping his wand tightly in his pocket, but he wouldn't allow the other boy to incite him into purposely using magic.

Draco sighed as Harry's hand came up wandless. "I could have figured. It's not worth expulsion, is it Potter? Not worth saving your precious Mudblood friend…"

Harry froze as Hermione's face went from that of irritation to full-out rage in a matter of milliseconds. Her breathing quickened and she held up her book , as though she were threatening to hit Draco. Harry detected a hint of uncertainty on her face, though; while neither of them probably knew what 'Mudblood' meant, by the way Draco had said it; it couldn't have been a compliment…

Draco's malevolent expression distorted into one of sick, satisfied pleasure. He sauntered over to them again, this time picking up the topmost book from Hermione's pile. He examined it with great curiosity for a moment, then looked back up at the two's infuriated faces.

"Sorry Granger, I didn't know I was interrupting your study time…I heard they might ban Mudbloods from attending Hogwarts soon; you might want to hurry and steal all the knowledge you can before they send you back to the Muggle world where you belong…"

Hermione glared at him. "And where will _you_ belong when you get expelled from Hogwarts, Malfoy?"

"I won't get expelled..._ever_," he laughed cruelly. "See, my father has connections with the Ministry."

Harry wondered why Draco didn't attempt to deny that there was even the slightest possibility that he would do something awful enough to get expelled someday.

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other as Draco pretended to study the book in his hands with great interest.

"Go away Malfoy," Hermione said at last, clearly uncomfortable with the other boy hanging around them.

Draco looked up and smirked. "Very well, Granger."

Just as he went to put the book back on the top of Hermione's book stack, he appeared to have tripped over his own feet. He fell forward, purposely thrusting the book towards the others, and knocked the entire collection to the ground.

"Oh, Granger, I'm so sorry," he choked with laughter as Hermione fell to the ground and hurriedly began picking up her precious books. "You know how clumsy I can be sometimes."

Harry glowered at the other boy, knowing there was nothing accidental about his little stumble. Still, he somehow found the will to ignore the obnoxious boy as he bent over to help his friend with her books.

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape noticed an old, coverless book slip inconspicuously out of Draco's hands and into the seemingly endless pile of books that were now scattered amongst the kids' feet. Had Snape not been watching Draco, he wouldn't have noticed it at all. Harry and Hermione, too preoccupied with organizing the sea of books around them, hadn't even noticed the newest addition to the pile.

_Why would Draco do that?_ Snape wondered to himself, keeping his eyes trained closely on Draco now.

With a high, childlike laugh, Draco turned on the spot and began walking towards the exit of the shop. Harry wasn't done with him yet, however; without thinking, he unknowingly grabbed the blank book and flung it as hard as he could possibly manage towards the other boy. His aim was flawless, but it didn't hit Draco; instead, a pale hand reached out from nowhere and caught it in midair.

"Professor!" Harry looked up in horror at the person whom had caught the book.

"Throwing books, Potter?" Snape asked softly, his black eyes glittering hatefully.

"No sir," Harry replied calmly, keeping his eyes focused on his hands. Whenever he looked at Snape, he always got the feeling that he could see something Harry didn't want him to see...

"So am I to believe that this book took flight on its own accord?" Snape sneered back, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of Potter. He missed tormenting kids; was Potter suddenly immune to his threatening approach?

"No professor, I didn't—"

"I threw it, sir," Hermione spoke up at once. Harry looked at her in shock. It was just like the previous year, when Harry and Ron had fought off the troll and Hermione took the blame. He thought that had been a fluke though; was she seriously lying to a teacher again?

Snape didn't need Legilimency to see that Granger was covering up for her friend; he'd seen the temperamental boy throw it right in front of him. What of their punishment, though? They were not at Hogwarts; therefore he could not deduct house points. He could not give them detentions, either. Snape hated the feeling of not being the one in power, but then it occurred to him: he was Potter's guardian. This clearly meant that Dumbledore would allow him to discipline the boy in a way he felt would be suitable, right?

As for Granger's punishment, he wouldn't _dare_ lay a finger on her— nor would he verbally reprimand her— while her parents were in such close proximity. Muggles or not, they were her guardians, and thus only they could punish her while she was outside of school.

"There you are Hermione!"

Snape grimaced at the sound of the girl's father coming from behind him. Hermione didn't smile at her parent's approach, but rather, continued cowering in terror from Snape's fierce glare.

"Mum…Dad…" she said faintly. "Um, I'd like you to meet my friend, Harry—" she gestured to Harry, who looked extremely uncomfortable under Snape's watchful gaze, "— and this is one of my teachers at school, Professor—"

"We've met," her mother interrupted, her loathsome expression directed at Snape. Hermione didn't understand why there was such animosity between the two, but it was clear that she was discomfitted by it.

"Ready to leave, dear?" Mr. Granger asked his daughter.

"Oh yes," Hermione replied too quickly. She could not have looked more relieved at the excuse to get away from her daunting Potions professor; it was bad enough seeing him at school, but summer was supposed to be her Snape-free time. She hurriedly shoved the reorganized stacks of books into her parent's arms and tried pushing them away from the scene before Snape could do anything else. She couldn't even look back to apologize to Harry; she figured he'd understand and besides, it would have been worse if Snape saw her mouthing an apology to him.

"Miss Granger, I believe you've left a book," Snape called back, holding up the coverless book in which Potter had unsuccessfully thrown at Malfoy. He had managed a quick glance inside as she began walking away, but found, to his disappointment, that it was completely blank. Surely Granger didn't keep a diary? Or…was this the book Draco had so surreptitiously dropped into her pile? He didn't remember, but it didn't matter, seeing that Draco had obviously wanted to be rid of the book anyways.

"Oh!" Hermione unwillingly went back to Snape and went to take the book— not yet realizing it wasn't hers— but Snape pulled back before she could snag it.

"Are you _certain_ this is yours?"

"Oh yes, I've wanted that book for a long time," Hermione said absentmindedly. Harry secretly knew she was lying so that she could get away from Snape as soon as possible. As he watched her retreating figure scrambling after the two elder Grangers, he found himself sincerely wishing that he could join her. At least she had said goodbye this time.

Harry sighed and looked up at his guardian, who, as usual, was smirking at him. The circumstances were not looking good at this point, because he now found himself alone with Snape once more. Joy.

**xXxXxXxXx**

_Bleh._

Cold oatmeal was not the sort of breakfast Harry had looked forward to upon his departure from the Dursleys. However, he'd already forced down four spoonfuls of the garbage, would another few scoops really kill him? The saddest part was that it was better than any of the morning meals the Dursleys had ever provided for him at Privet Drive. Breakfast didn't really even qualify as a meal with his relatives, who refused to give him anything more than a piece of mouldy fruit and an iceless glass of water.

At least Tom the barman had brought him some orange juice. It tasted a little bitter, but it was a refreshing change from plain water.

Harry was used to eating alone; he'd dined solo for nearly a decade in his little cupboard until the year he found out he was a wizard. After that, his aunt and uncle seemed to fear what he would do to them if he was forced away during mealtimes. Still, while they let him eat at the table like a normal human being, they still gave him nothing but Dudley's leftovers, which usually weren't much, since his pig of a cousin ate so much.

Still, Harry couldn't help but feel out of place sitting in the Leaky Cauldron's main area by himself. Every other occupied table around him had at least two or three people sitting together, chatting merrily about the latest goings-on in the wizarding world. A few others read the _Daily Prophet_ with their friends and colleagues. As much as Harry liked watching how other people acted in this still unfamiliar world of witchcraft and wizardry, he felt a nagging sense of loneliness rising in his chest. He wished Ron and Hermione were here.

Snape had warned him the night before not to disturb him: after nearly three straight days without sleeping, Harry grudgingly decided he couldn't blame him for wanting peace. He never really considered Snape to be a morning person, after all; he was most definitely a prowler of the night.

Sighing to himself, Harry idly reached into his schoolbag and pulled out the first book that his hand latched onto. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that it happened to be his potions book. Figuring there was nothing really interesting to do— Snape had forbade him from allowing even one toe to step outside of the Leaky Cauldron— Harry opened it up to a random page and read. Potions had been a terribly dull subject the year before…why did it seem a little more appealing to him this year, then?

Last year, someone had vaguely mentioned his mother being a brilliant potioneer when she attended Hogwarts. Was he merely determined to live up to her legacy? Or had he simply imagined someone telling him about Lily's potioneering abilities? He didn't really know, but he did know one thing: he wasn't going to let Snape humiliate him this year. He'd be prepared for those trick questions the grumpy git always reserved just for him.

At the sight of a black, billowing cloak brushing past him, Harry looked up. Now awake, Snape had come down for breakfast without even the slightest "good morning." Harry had obviously expected this, but today Snape didn't even _acknowledge _him.

Tom the barman immediately rushed over with a mug of steaming hot black liquid. Harry held back a snort of laughter when he recognized the smell that wafted over to him from Snape's table. Apparently his potions professor was fond of Muggle coffee. Like everything else about him, it was black. Harry half wondered if the man had ever worn anything besides that dismal colour. Maybe the Weasley twins could do something about Snape's dreary attire this year…

Snape knew exactly where the boy was sitting; he had simply chosen not to greet him. Every new day was a terrible day; each one meant that he had to continue pushing himself through this miserable existence. Seeing Potter's face first thing in the morning would make it worse. He concentrated as hard as he could on the tattered _Daily Prophet_ in front of him, but he could _feel_ Potter's gaze on him, even through the paper. Oh Merlin, would the boy ever leave him alone?

Unable to take it any longer, he slammed down the paper, making his half-empty coffee mug wobble dangerously near the edge of the table. Potter's eyes widened in terror as he and Snape made eye contact, but for some reason, the foolish boy didn't look away. Instead, he seemed somewhat cheered by the fact that someone had finally looked at him. Snape shook his head in disgust, figuring that he would never understand how Potter's mind worked. A ridiculous little attention-seeker; that's what Potter was.

As Snape went back to reading the newspaper, Harry casually flicked through his potions book once more. He landed on a page and briefly glanced over it, not really paying attention until his eyes somehow focused on the ingredients to the potion. He knew Snape thought him to be a dreadful potioneer, but the instructions on this particular potion intrigued him. Without thinking, Harry stood up and walked across the room— with book in tow— to where Snape was so desperately trying to focus on the _Prophet_ and ignore him.

Harry stood patiently next to the man for several seconds. Snape seemed to sense him there, but he didn't want to give in and have to talk to the boy. He concentrated so hard on the newspaper that the print seemed to swirl beneath his eyes after a while, thus giving him a rather irritating headache. Potter remained where he was, clearly intending on talking to him sooner or later.

"What do you want Potter?" Snape asked at last, folding the paper and tossing it aside. Much to his annoyance, Potter took this as an invitation to sit down across from him. He didn't quite smile, but then again, he didn't glare at Snape as he usually did in Potions class. Snape noticed he had a book on his lap.

"What is that?" he inquired sharply. He knew he was coming across as harsh, but this was Potter; criticism hardly stopped him from being an arrogant mini-toerag.

"Oh, uh I had a question…it's about potions, _sir_," he said calmly. He had grown accustomed to his professor's snappish questions by now, and no longer looked as flustered under Snape's interrogations. He propped the book up onto the table and pushed it towards Snape.

"It says to add half an ounce of wolfsbane and three ounces of monkshood, but…didn't you say those were the same plants?"

Snape found it exceedingly difficult to hide his shock. Potter…_did_ pay attention in class last year? Where was Granger? Surely it was she who had slipped him this bit of information…? Granger was nowhere to be seen, however. It appeared that Potter had found this all on his own, though Snape really did not believe this to be possible. Snape looked up at the boy; he was looking at Snape expectantly, partially fearful of a potential hostile response, half excited to have shown Snape that he really _did_ listen to his lectures, no matter how dull they were most of the time.

Snape took a long sip of his now-cold coffee, pretending to mull it over in hopes that the boy would lose interest and retreat.

_Stupid Gryffindor pride_, he thought sourly when Harry didn't budge. In fact, the boy scooted his chair closer; his anticipation was nearly driving him mad.

"Well…_sir?_"

Snape hated how he always seemed to add that when he wanted a good response. If Potter was expecting praise for this little discovery, then he needed a good dosage of common sense knocked into him…

"Yes Potter," he said at last, finding himself increasingly annoyed with the way the boy gazed at him so eagerly. Snape couldn't bring himself to add 'You're right.' It would have felt like swearing in front of a young child; strange and inappropriate.

Snape had hoped the boy would go away after this insignificant finding, but Snape's positive response only encouraged him further.

"And this sir? Are we learning to make this one this year?" he pointed to another page that Snape definitely knew he had chosen randomly. He didn't know what Potter was getting at, but he _had_ to discourage him before he actually started asking for _more_ help.

"Yes Potter, now go away," he said it bluntly because there was simply no other way to get rid of the unbearable boy. Harry appeared to have ignored this, however; he had company now— never mind how bad-tempered Snape was.

"And this—"

"Potter!" Snape snapped at him, feeling rather irritated that the boy had already managed to ruin his morning with his idiotic questions. He suddenly felt himself wishing Granger was here so that little know-it-all could answer Potter's questions, rather than have the boy waste _his_ time.

As Harry's wide green eyes silently stared back at him, Snape sighed impatiently. "Why do you care about Potions, Potter? You've never shown any interest— or talent, for that matter— in the subject before."

Harry frowned, clearly thinking it over. "I don't know, sir," he said finally. "I guess…I don't like being terrible at a subject, really…so I figured…I'd try a little more this year."

The two were silent for quite some time. Harry didn't dare ask any more questions for a while, and Snape didn't want to talk to him anyways. Harry lost himself in thought for a while, then decided there was one last question he wanted answered, and this had nothing to do with potions.

"Sir?"

"What now Potter?" Snape didn't bother looking up this time, but rather focused his attention on resisting the overwhelming urge to hit his head against the nearest wall.

"What does 'Mudblood' mean?"

Snape nearly choked on his drink. While he had been expecting another obnoxious question about the subject he hated almost as much as Potter did, he hadn't been prepared for this. Oh, how that awful word had brought him so much grief in the past…

"It has no meaning, Potter."

"Of course it does," Harry shot back heatedly. "Malfoy called Hermione that yesterday."

Indeed he had. Snape had heard it himself.

He personally hadn't used the cursed word since his fifth year at Hogwarts, but he did not forget its meaning, although he wished he could. Why should he tell Potter, anyways? Knowing what it meant did not guarantee he wouldn't use it later against his friend…

Glancing at the boy's fierce expression, Snape shrugged as apathetically as he could manage. "It's a term to describe those of Muggle ancestry, Potter."

The boy considered the idea for a few moments. His forehead creased as though he was in deep thought, then he finally responded quietly: "Why? Does it matter, being muggleborn?"

Try as he might, Snape could not ignore the question. As much as he despised Granger, he did not hold a personal grudge against muggleborns. And, knowing Potter, he would launch into a full-out interrogation if Snape said 'yes,' so there was only one answer left if he wanted the boy to shut up once and for all…

"No."

**xXxXxXxXx**

Draco was not happy.

Actually, he was rarely happy on most other occasions, but today, he was _fuming_.

The elf had lied to him. It was unbelievable. Did the foolish creature realize how terrible his punishment would be?

Harry Potter was going back to Hogwarts. But _why_? Dobby swore to him that he wasn't returning; how in the world had Potter managed to squirm his way out of trouble this time?

It was bad enough that he was going to have to put up with Granger and Weasley for another ridiculously long school year, but Potter too?

"_Dobby!_" he called the elf from the darkness of his room. He'd already wasted the past two hours brooding over his misfortunes; it was time for a little pay back.

_Crack!_

Just as the scrawny elf materialized out of thin air in front of him, Draco furiously punted him with a kick so powerful that professional Muggle soccer players would have envied him. The elf screamed as he soared across the room— his body twisting into various grotesque positions in midflight— and landed with a resounding _crash!_ on the opposite end of the room.

Before he could even pick himself up, Draco yanked him up from his feeble position amongst the rubble and threw him onto a nearby chair.

"Master Draco! Master Draco!" Dobby was now sobbing, but Draco didn't have time for the elf's pathetic behaviour right now.

"You lied to your master, you stupid elf!" Draco hissed as he advanced threateningly towards the cowering creature. Dobby's huge tennis ball-shaped eyes were wide with fear and tears poured unashamedly down his face as he stared up at his young master with apprehensive reverence.

"Master…" Dobby pleaded, but Draco would hear none of it.

"Didn't you tell me that Potter wasn't returning to Hogwarts? Didn't you?" Draco grabbed the elf by his rag and shook him violently, unwilling to wait for his bawling to subdue in order to get an answer.

"Dobby has tried, master! Dobby has done _everything_—"

"Clearly you haven't! I saw Potter yesterday in Diagon Alley! He's going back!"

Dobby squealed as Draco indifferently tossed him towards the door. Dobby waited several seconds before he got to his feet, wondering what his cruel young master would do to him when his back was turned. For some reason, no further punishment came, and Dobby started inflicting his own form of punishment on himself to compensate.

"Stop it! You'll break a hole in my wall if you do that enough!" Draco snapped from behind him. Dobby stopped at once and timidly turned around to face Draco.

"Do whatever it takes to keep Potter from going back to Hogwarts, do you understand me, you piece of filth?"

Dobby nodded immediately, and then added in a terrified whisper: "Master…what if the only choice left is to kill Harry Potter?"

Draco frowned. While he certainly hated Potter, it wasn't worth going to Azkaban by ordering his family elf to kill him.

"No, don't kill him," he replied with a hint of reluctance in his voice. "And don't kill Snape either," he added quickly, remembering for the first time that his favourite professor was watching over Harry for the rest of the summer.

Dobby trembled slightly. "And…what if Dobby…"

"If _you_ die, then I'll consider it a worthy sacrifice. You're hardly of much use around here as it is," Draco said smugly, unable to contain his joy at the petrified look on the elf's face. "Now get out of my sight!"


	5. Chapter 5

Ah, King's Cross...

To most magical children, it was nothing more than the place where they boarded the Hogwarts Express and journeyed on into their next year of school. To Harry Potter, however, the train station was much more than that: it was his gateway to freedom.

Free from his imprisonment at Privet Drive…

Free from the Ministry's ludicrous Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery…

And this year, it also meant that Harry was finally free from Snape's clutches.

After all that the man had done for him so far, Harry found that he didn't exactly _hate_ Snape. After all, "hate" was a very strong word.

No, Harry figured his attitude towards the snarky professor had downsized to a level of mere "dislike" by now. Snape had not been a very pleasant companion this last week— not that Harry had expected any less of him— and he was certain that Snape thought of his company to be equally unpleasant.

_At least the feeling's mutual_, Harry thought sourly as he shoved his trolley along the various platforms of the Muggle components of the station. Snape never once offered to help, which was fine with Harry; he didn't wish to admit just how hard it was pushing this massive load, in fear of appearing weak in front of his most daunting professor.

With just five minutes until the Hogwarts Express departed, they arrived at the area between platforms nine and ten. Muggles were rushing past them in hordes; for some reason there were a lot more than usual, making the task of inconspicuously slipping between the brick wall barrier all the more difficult.

"Go on, Potter," Snape stiffly nodded towards the wall. There was a grubby homeless man sleeping near the spot where Harry needed to sneak through; would they have to move him? And if he woke up, how in the world would they explain why he had to move from _this_ particular wall?

Snape obviously paid no attention to the tattered fellow, and gave Harry a harsh shove towards the wall. Last year, he had had Mrs. Weasley kindly helping him; this year, Snape's no-nonsense approach made Harry quite nervous about going through the seemingly-solid barrier once more.

"Sir…there's a man—"

"—hurry, Potter!" he barked at the boy, realizing there was only three minutes until the train departed for Hogwarts. If the boy missed the train, it would be entirely Potter's fault. Even the boy's owl squawked impatiently at him.

Sighing determinedly, Harry kicked his feet back and charged at the wall, running as fast as he could. The sooner he was away from Snape, the sooner he could see Ron and Hermione again…

The homeless man had woken up by this point, and was now gaping in horror at the sight of a young boy sprinting at top speed towards him with a heavily-loaded trolley. Harry tried slowing down to allow him to get out of the way, but he had too much momentum by this point, and his attempt at braking was rendered useless. With a magnificent _crash_, Harry and his trolley collided head-on with the unfairly solid wall. Why hadn't it worked for him? Was it because a Muggle had been touching it at the time?

He saw shiny white stars for a few moments, before someone angrily jerked him by the arm onto his feet. Dazed from the impact of the crash, Harry swayed dangerously until his vision finally cleared. All of his belongings were scattered everywhere, and poor Hedwig was trapped in her cage under his thankfully still-closed trunk. Muggles were now staring at the strange scene between platforms nine and ten, wondering why the idiot boy had purposely ran straight at a solid wall. At the insistence of the creepy man in billowing black robes, however, they quit their gawking and went along their way.

The homeless drunk had fled from the scene; at least there hadn't been any magic performed, otherwise he surely would have needed some memory modifications.

"What happened?" Harry asked as he helped Snape pick up his belongings. Snape shrugged irritably and motioned for Harry to follow him.

"I'll go first, Potter," Snape sneered at him. "We don't need any more embarrassing accidents like that from you."

Harry half wondered if the barrier wouldn't let Snape through either, but to his astonishment, he strolled right through as though he were walking through a cloud.

_Okay, if he can do it so easily, then so can I,_ Harry thought fiercely as he revved up his trolley for another go. Hedwig hooted uncertainly, but it was now or never: the train departed in just one minute.

Just as he had on the first attempt, Harry ran as hard as he could at the barrier. It allowed Snape through; surely whatever had stopped him from going through before was solved…

_CRASH!_

This collision was even more explosive than the first one; Harry was flung backwards, but this time he managed to catch Hedwig's cage before they both hit the ground. His head rebounded off the concrete with a terrible _crack_, and for a second, he thought he had split his head open. More Muggles had stopped to observe him this time as well, but he got to his feet and angrily shooed them away; feeling too humiliated to accept their offers of assistance. Not that they would have been of any help, anyways, unless they somehow knew how to get onto a platform that none believed to exist.

"Potter!"

Snape had come back through the wall to see what the fuss was about. Noticing Harry's possessions once again strewn everywhere, he turned slightly paler.

"What's going on Potter?" he demanded, even though he knew the boy had just as much of an idea as he did. Perhaps there was something wrong with the magical barrier, but there was no way he could possibly reveal his wand out in public like this…not with all these nosy Muggles around…

"It's…it's not working, sir," he replied shakily, as he stooped over to once again pick up his school things. Hedwig was squawking furiously and flapping her wings as though she were taking flight in her own cage.

"Let's try this _one_ _more_ _time_," Snape said edgily once Harry's things were reorganized. Harry readied his bent-up trolley once more, but Snape held up a hand. "Try it alone first, Potter."

Frowning in concentration, Harry quickly decided he wouldn't try running this time. He already had enough bruises by now and he wasn't in the mood for further public humiliation. He felt slightly apprehensive this time, but hid this from Snape as he approached the wall at a swift walk. He hesitated when he was two strides away, but forced his legs to keep moving. He told himself he would make it through this time, and Snape would follow a moment after with his trolley.

As soon as he hit the wall, he jumped back and growled angrily.

"It's not working!"

Snape swore under his breath. "Potter! It works fine, you're just not concentrating!"

To prove his point, he charged at the barrier— the train was leaving in twenty seconds— but this time, he, too, smacked into the now-completely solid wall. He was so stunned to find that it didn't work for him either, that he was rendered speechless. Both he and Potter couldn't get through. How could this be? He knocked on the brick just to confirm it. It remained firm. Harry looked up at his professor, though he didn't _dare_ laugh at his inability to get past the barrier this time. Finally, he looked down at Harry with a strange expression: for some reason, it wasn't the cold, loathing glare he always got, but rather a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. Snape looked up at the Muggle clock above them: the train left a minute ago.

Harry was shocked by some of the words that came from his professor's mouth; if _he_ had said those words aloud, he would have received detention for two months.

"What now, sir?" he asked timidly once Snape's swear-fest was done. If he was still permitted to return to Hogwarts, he'd have to find another way of getting there, because the train was long gone by now. He thought sadly of his friends: Ron and Hermione had no idea where he was and they were probably wondering if he had ditched them for another compartment on the train. If only they knew…

**xXxXxXxXx**

_Crack._

Harry— still closing his eyes from the horrible crushing feeling that had previously engulfed his entire body— barely managed to stay on his feet as they landed on solid ground. There was another explosive _crack_, which Harry initially thought to be another person Apparating, but it was really a bolt of lightning overhead. Only then did he realize it was pouring down rain, and he was completely soaked after just thirty seconds of standing there. Snape was standing next to him, looking just as wet, though somewhat warmer; he seemed to think it was amusing watching Harry stand there, violently shivering, while he had cast a Warming Charm over his own robes.

"Where are we?" Harry asked once he got a better look at the place. The streets were completely deserted, though the light was on in one of the shops called Honeydukes. "Why didn't we just go to Hogwarts?"

"We Apparated to Hogsmeade, Potter," Snape snarled impatiently. "If you possessed any ounce of sense, you would have known from _Hogwarts: A History_ that one cannot Apparate within the boundaries of the school. No more questions, I already have the Ministry to worry about…"

"Why?"

"_Did I not just say—_"

"I'm just asking, sir," Harry said nervously. If Snape wasn't a criminal like he and Ron supposed he was, why would he be worried about the Ministry?

"_Because_, Potter…Apparating with an underaged wizard is considered illegal. Now, one more question and I swear I'll hex—"

"_Harry Potter!_"

Snape, startled by the sound of the squeaky intruder behind them, whirled around to face the person. Nobody was there; at least no _person_ was there. It was an ugly little house elf, but not any house elf: the Malfoy's elf. What was that cursed thing's name again?

"Dobby?!" Harry sputtered, right on cue.

The elf trembled with a mixture of awe and fright at the sound of the boy saying his name. His giant round eyes didn't blink back the raindrops that drizzled down from the heavens; but rather remained entirely focused on Harry.

"What…what is Harry Potter doing here?" the elf whispered. For some unknown reason, he repeatedly refused to look at the infuriated adult standing next to the boy.

"I'm going to Hogwarts," Harry replied impatiently. Suddenly, he looked around and noticed that something was missing. "Where's my trunk?"

Snape barely heard him. His eyes were transfixed on the familiar elf in front of them; he had been the one who told Draco about Potter not coming to Hogwarts…was this some sort of conspiracy? He absentmindedly pulled the boy's micro-sized trunk out of his pocket and resized it with his wand, but his attention remained on the elf.

"Harry Potter cannot…please…" the elf pleaded, his eyes growing watery with pitiful tears. "There's no point…"

"No point?" Harry asked incredulously. "You've already tried this before…I have my friends here…and lessons…and—"

"No Quidditch though," Dobby murmured in a terrified voice, looking down at his ugly feet with forced fascination.

"Well, yeah, there's that, but…wait! _How did you know about my broom?_"

Dobby looked as though he had just come face-to-face with Death. Suddenly, the elf screamed and threw himself at Harry's feet; rolling around in the mud and sobbing unashamedly.

"Stop it, Dobby…please quit it," Harry begged the elf, feeling more overwhelmed than angry at the moment. With an obnoxiously loud sniff, Dobby got to his feet, wobbling dangerously. His old rag was covered in filth, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Dobby had to do it, Harry Potter…Dobby _had_ to…"

"You destroyed the broom?" Harry asked, his heart feeling strangely heavy in his chest. He knew it was already gone; the elf's confession didn't make the situation better or worse, because he wasn't getting it back no matter what.

"No," the elf moaned. "Harry Potter's cousin broke the broom. Dobby stole the flight piece."

_So that's what that sound was,_ Harry thought, remembering the Apparating noise he had heard that night but had been too distracted to care. By now, Dobby had resumed his self-torture ritual of throwing himself in the deepest, muddiest puddles he could find; no doubt trying to drown himself. Harry carefully pulled the creature away from the sludgy pools and set him down onto the ground.

"But…why?"

"_Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts!_" Dobby wailed, his hysteria growing to alarming levels. He threw his tiny body at Harry, as though he were trying to keep him from taking a step further towards the place of his supposed future destruction. Just before Harry went to move him out of the way, Snape harshly kicked the creature out of the way instead.

"As touching as this is, Potter," Snape sneered at him, "the headmaster would like to see you immediately and we do not have time for these theatrics."

Harry looked sadly towards Dobby, who was now furiously trying to writhe his way out of the thickened mud his head was stuck in. The elf was surely mad; there was nothing he could do or say to make him change his mind. No matter what the elf did, there was no way he was leaving Hogwarts for good…

"_No!_" Dobby howled once he had freed his head and saw the two walking up the path to the darkened castle. He scrambled after them as quickly as he could, lunged at Harry's left leg and latched onto it with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Argh— Dobby— let— go—"

There was a flash of light, and Dobby released his grip, screaming in pain as he did so. Obviously irritated with the whole situation, Snape had resorted to using magic rather than physical force against Dobby.

"Stop! Don't hurt him," Harry pleaded, stepping in the path between the end of Snape's wand and Dobby. The elf began sobbing again upon Harry's unusually kind treatment of him, but Snape wasn't prepared to let the elf get away without punishment. If only that little piece of filth knew how much grief he had caused him in the past week…

"Get out of the way, Potter," Snape snarled, but Harry wouldn't budge.

Remembering his orders, Dobby willingly came from his hiding spot behind Harry's legs and faced Snape. He was to stop the boy from returning to the school at any costs; even his own life. He _had_ to obey his master.

All three seemed to freeze for a second: Snape with his wand pointed threateningly at Dobby's heart, Harry staring in shock at the elf's courage at standing up to Snape, and Dobby shakily waiting for whatever was to come.

_Please don't kill the elf,_ Harry thought silently. _It's not worth killing him…_

"_Imperio._"

Dobby's eyes went suddenly blank, and his body straightened unnaturally, as though someone had placed an invisible back brace on him.

"I said don't hurt him!" said Harry worriedly.

Snape ignored him. He flicked his wand at the elf and flicked it again in the opposite direction. At once, Dobby set off at a swift pace, without a single word or frenzied temper tantrum. It was like he took on a completely new personality, not that Harry minded his departure; still, he had to wonder, did it hurt the elf?

"The Imperious," Snape began explaining as he casually put his wand back into his pocket; ensuring that he was careful to leave out the 'curse' part, "_usually_ doesn't hurt the victim at all, Potter. Just leave him be and he should return to his family once the— ah, _charm_ wears off."

Harry wanted to ask what exactly the Imperious did, but he didn't have time: Snape was already stomping away…

**xXxXxXxXx**

"_Harry!_"

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape noticed Granger and Weasley charging at Potter down by Gryffindor's table. He never did understand why those two were so clingy to the boy; his leadership skills were certainly lacking, though perhaps they only appreciated him for his fame? Of course, deep down, he knew the true reason…but close friendship was one of those things he just couldn't wholly comprehend.

_Who would want to listen to Granger babble on about her oh-so-exciting summer, anyways?_ He thought sourly. Still, he figured he ought to cheer up a little. After all, Potter was completely Dumbledore's responsibility from now on; aside from Potions class that is.

"Well done, Severus," a woman's stern, yet somewhat softer voice came from the right of him. It was Minerva.

"It looks like Harry is doing well."

Snape grunted.

"He's really not as bad as you think he is, you know," she prodded him gently. He ignored her and pretended to take a big gulp of pumpkin juice.

"I'm glad you were able to get him here safely," she finished, figuring it was better giving up now while she was ahead. Severus would never admit to liking any son of James Potter, even if the boy was good-natured and tried hard in his studies. Not that it mattered, since her outwardly-unpleasant colleague seemed to hate everyone, not matter who they were.

"Good evening, Severus."

Snape didn't have to turn around to see the second person. He knew who it was before the man even spoke.

_Merlin, is it too much to ask for a little privacy?_

Dumbledore remained standing where he was and gently placed his hand on Snape's shoulder. He flinched upon contact, but he was too exhausted to bother shaking it away. Minerva offered her chair to the headmaster, but he politely refused. Immediately realizing he wished to talk with Severus, she turned to Gilderoy and pretended to be enthralled with his banshee tales.

"I know I asked a lot from you, Severus."

"No you didn't," Snape replied at once, knowing the headmaster would have wanted him to disagree.

"I see Harry is doing well."

"That is exactly what Minerva said," Snape murmured as he looked over at Potter and his friends. Granger and Weasley were laughing at something one of the Weasley twins said and Potter was trying— and failing— to coax the thoroughly-insecure Weasley girl into talking to him.

Dumbledore lowered his voice. "I assure you received my thanks? I certainly hope it was enough."

"It was more than enough," Snape replied dully, wondering what Dumbledore was getting at.

His blue eyes twinkled mysteriously as Snape turned around and looked directly at him. Luckily, he was a skilled Occlumens, otherwise Dumbledore would have seen right through him.

"Have you spent any of it, yet?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"No," Snape lied and automatically put up his mental shields. Oh, what tortures would await him if the old wizard found out…

"Very well," Dumbledore continued smiling serenely. "Have a nice year, then, Severus."

And without another word, the headmaster walked away.

**xXxXxXxXx**

"Someone woke up late this morning," Harry teased Ron as he entered the Great Hall with his eyes barely open the next day. He grunted an incoherent response and immediately began shoving as many pieces of toast into his mouth as he could manage.

"_Honestly_, Ron," Hermione scolded him. "Show some manners!"

Ron ignored her. "Post come yet?"

Harry shook his head and turned to Hermione. "What classes do we have today?"

"Transfiguration first, then Charms later."

Harry sighed with relief. He had been worried about Potions; he wasn't ready to face Snape after all that had happened the last week. Not that he had to worry, anyways, since Snape was apparently absent from the teacher's table this morning. Suddenly, he heard a squawk overhead, and a tiny barn owl accidentally dropped Hermione's _Daily Prophet_ onto his sausages, splattering grease everywhere.

Owls of all shapes and sizes were fluttering into the hall; a welcoming sight after a summer of his uncle's anti-owl rules at Privet Drive. Hedwig swooped down and softly pecked at Harry's ear.

"Ouch! What do you want?" Harry waited for her to hold out her leg, but there were no messages attached.

"You came down here just to snatch some free food huh? Fine, I get it, I'll come visit you later, now shoo!"

Hedwig ruffled her feathers irritably and departed along with the rest of the owls. It was awfully odd for her to have come down here without a message…Harry wondered if she was feeling ill…

A few moments later, three medium-sized owls entered the Great Hall. They were a little behind schedule: all of the other owls had left already, and everyone stared at the trio, wondering what they had tied to their legs. It was a large, carefully wrapped package, and it was headed straight for Gryffindor's table.

One by one, the tired owls gave up flying, and all of them landed with a mighty crash right in front of Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

Hermione was quick to release the poor birds from their restraints, and they hooted feebly to thank her. Ron snatched up the note attached to the skinny package and found it difficult to hide his disappointment as he handed it over to Harry.

"It's for you," he said glumly, though he was still interested in seeing what it was.

Harry looked down at the note. All it said was **HARRY POTTER.** _Strange…_

"Well, go on, open it Harry!" George Weasley prodded him, with the rest of the Gryffindors nodding eagerly in agreement.

Feeling slightly ridiculous from the attention, Harry hastily tore away the paper. The shape was so familiar, yet how could it be…? Surely he was just imagining it…?

He wasn't. Right there, in front of him, lay a brand-new Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Ron yelped at the sight of the magnificent broom lying in front of them, though Hermione looked more skeptical than amazed.

"Where'd you get that, Harry?"

"Merlin! Did you win the wizard's lottery, Harry?"

"That's the best broom in the world! There's no _way_ we'll lose to Slytherin this year!"

Harry continued staring back and forth between the broom and the note in his hands. It seemed as though every Gryffindor was surrounding him now, admiring his broom and greedily calculating their chances at winning the Quidditch Cup this year. He, however, was too stunned for words at the sight of the magnificent broom in front of him. And to think, it was _his_...

"Can I hold it?"

"Are you going to ride it later?"

"Where did you get it?"

"Where _did_ you get it?" Hermione asked suspiciously after Harry passed the broom off to the horde of excited Gryffindors down the table from them.

"I dunno…it doesn't matter though," he said defensively, fearing where Hermione would go with this.

"Doesn't matter?" Ron repeated incredulously. "Of course it does! Write back and tell them to get me one too!"

"_Ron!_"

"Oh come on, Hermione! A _Nimbus Two Thousand and One!_ Who _wouldn't_ want one?"

"_I_ wouldn't," Hermione snapped. "At least not from a random stranger. Give me that note, Harry."

"Why?" Harry held it back protectively, as though she were threatening to burn it.

"Just give it to me," said Hermione exasperatedly. Harry unwillingly gave it to her, and after a few moments of silent investigating, Hermione looked up at them.

"Well, this is definitely a woman's handwriting."

"_A woman's?_" Ron squawked, grabbing the message back from Hermione and obsessively looking it over again. "Why would a _woman_ get Harry a broom?"

"Girls like Quidditch too," Ginny snapped at him from across the table; she had been so quiet that Ron and Harry hadn't even noticed she was there. Suddenly realizing that Harry was looking at her, she blushed madly and turned her head away in embarrassment.

"Stay out of this, Ginny," Ron replied hotly, then turned back to Hermione. "_Well_? Who do you think bought this?"

"Gee, I don't know," Hermione said sarcastically. "Maybe _Professor McGonagall?_"

"She has a point, you know," Harry whispered to Ron, who was still furiously examining the note.

"I still don't think—"

"Fine. We'll ask someone else…George," Hermione called to one of the Weasley twins sitting down at their end of the table.

He looked up and grinned. "Actually, I'm Fred—"

"Whatever…can you tell me who wrote this?" she seized the paper from Ron and handed it to him.

"I don't know…anyone could have written it I suppose…"

"I meant who wrote it? A man or a woman? Surely a woman?" Hermione added, showing him the swirly H in Harry's name. "That's exactly how I write my H's as well."

"No, I think it was written by a guy," Fred replied evenly, handing it back to Hermione, who now looked quite livid.

"HA!" Ron cried triumphantly with a bit of yogurt dripping out of his mouth. "Told you!"

"Oh who cares what _he_ thinks?" Hermione spat. "I'm sure Angelina would agree with me."

Indeed she did. Hermione obsessively went around the Gryffindor table for the rest of breakfast, asking everyone whom they thought wrote the note. Most girls agreed with Hermione, while most of the boys agreed with Ron, though Hermione automatically ignored their opinions once they disagreed with her.

"Does it really matter?" Harry asked her later in Transfiguration. "Or was it more about proving Ron wrong?"

Hermione glared at him as though he had taken Ron's side as well. "I knew I was right, I just wanted to make sure."

"Okay then," Harry shrugged it off and turned back to the day's lesson. Day One and his friends were already off to a bumpy start. Professor McGonagall hadn't asked him any questions regarding the broom yet, and she had undoubtedly heard about his unexpected gift by now, leading Harry to believe that Hermione was indeed right: McGonagall had bought him the broom. He couldn't deny it, after all, because the evidence was overwhelming: Gryffindor hadn't won the Cup in quite a few years, and she wanted her house to win as much as Harry did. Surely she'd have realized how lousy their chances were with a broom-less Seeker?

It was extraordinarily generous of her to have done that, so Harry hung back at the end of the lesson to thank her.

"You're still here, Potter?" she asked him curiously once she had finished packing up all her belongings.

"Yes…" he bit his lip, unsure of how to go about saying this, "…um, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"I…I uh, wanted to thank you," he stuttered, feeling oddly flustered at the moment. Perhaps it was because he wasn't used to such kind acts from the woman?

She stared at him blankly. "For what, Potter?"

Harry smiled inwardly, finding it funny that she was trying to hide her generosity. "Well, uh…for the broom, Professor. I've never received a nicer gift and I—"

"—I didn't get you that broom, Potter."

"What?"

"I didn't get you the broom."

Harry nearly choked. Everyone had been so certain that it was McGonagall. It couldn't possibly have been anyone else. Madam Hooch wouldn't have wanted to show favouritism to a particular team…Professor Sprout barely knew his name…Madam Pomfrey hardly approved of Quidditch, as it caused too many injuries…maybe it wasn't a woman after all?

"Then…then who did?" he wondered aloud.

"I assumed your relatives had purchased it for you."

"The_ Dursleys?_" Harry snorted. "They're Muggles. And they'd never do anything nice like that."

McGonagall smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I can't argue with you there, Potter. But we teachers barely make enough to support ourselves during the summer. Buying a broom for a student— no matter how talented a Quidditch player he is," she said with a wink, "— is unheard of."

Harry was taken aback by the sudden sternness on her face.

"However, if we don't know who sent it to you, I'm afraid we'll have to examine it for traces of Dark Magic."

"_What?_" Harry yelped. He would have _never_ asked her about his broom if he had known they would do _that!_

"Safety precautions, Potter," she snapped impatiently. "After last year's incident with Professor Quirrell, we can't take any risks with you. If you don't find out who sent it to you within the next week, I'm going to have to confiscate it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another class coming in any minute."

Harry numbly walked out the door; McGonagall quickly shut it behind him before he could turn around and ask any more questions.

So she didn't get it for him.

It was meant for him, though, wasn't it? Otherwise, what idiot would write his name on a broomstick delivery that wasn't for him?

As far as he could remember, he didn't have any friends in the wizarding world outside of Hogwarts. Hagrid surely couldn't have bought him anything that extravagant, but only he cared enough about Harry to do such a thing.

_Maybe it was Dumbledore,_ Harry thought as he joined Ron and Hermione for lunch in the same spot where he had first received his broom that morning. He only wished there was something he could do to return the favour to whoever had purchased it for him…

**xXxXxXxXx**

The next day, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville grudgingly made their way down the stony steps that led to the Potions classrooms. It had seemed like a lifetime since they had been in these dungeons; Neville was so terrified at the idea of seeing Snape again that he was tripping all over his feet before finally falling at the end of the stairs. Ron and Harry hastily caught him, and Hermione patted the poor boy's shoulder reassuringly.

Ron entered first; then Neville, then Hermione. Harry brought up the rear and closed the door.

"You're late, Mr. Potter," Snape's sneering voice came from the shadows at the front of the room.

Harry gaped at him. For some reason, he had held onto this tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just _maybe_ Snape would be more reasonable this year. After all, he had tried his best to prove to the nasty git that he wanted to do well in Potions this year; was he really going to give Harry a detention for being three seconds late?

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," he began with a satisfied smirk on his face. "And five from Granger, Weasley, and Longbottom."

Harry scowled as he took his seat. Snape watched him closely, though not with the usual hateful glare that he reserved only for Harry. Instead, he looked rather…_amused_ today.

Barely skimming the pages in his textbook, Harry gathered the ingredients for the day's lesson and began the assignment with Ron.

Halfway into the class— when they reached the step that involved chopping Nilla Leaves— Harry realized with a jolt: he had asked Snape about this potion a couple days ago during dinnertime. Breakfast had been a disaster, but Snape had been less irascible later in the evening, and had actually answered a few of Harry's questions.

"Don't chop them up like that," Harry whispered to Ron, who was now turning red from the effort of trying to cut up the stubborn leaves. His eyes darted over to Snape; he was busy admiring Malfoy's potioneering abilities to notice Harry talking.

"Why not? Book says to do it like this," Ron grunted as he continued slamming the silver knife down with every ounce of strength he could muster.

"I know, but look, try it like this," Harry demonstrated the way Snape had told him to try it, but Ron shook his head.

"The book didn't say that."

"I know, but…" he trailed off as Snape's glittering black eyes suddenly landed on Harry, making him fall silent at once.

Ron ignored Harry's advice, which didn't really matter, since it looked as though his potion was a lost cause no matter what he did at this point. Harry's potion, however, was now a soft, simmering yellow; exactly what it was supposed to look like at this stage. Even Hermione was staring at him from across the table: her own potion was still a vibrant orange colour. She frowned enviously and resumed helping Neville with his rainbow-coloured potion while hers brewed.

At the end of the lesson, Harry was tired, but shocked as well: his potion was the exact same lime colour as described in the book. For once, he might just receive a passing grade…

This was more than what he could say for Ron, whose potion had now fizzled into a plasma-like state and looked as though it consisted of the burnt remnants of Aunt Petunia's cooking. Poor Ron continued darting jealous glances between his unfortunate concoction and Harry's flawless one, wondering what he had done wrong.

"How'd you do that?" he demanded, but there was no time to reply: Snape was coming down their table to observe the Gryffindors' results. Hermione and Neville turned in their notes first; Neville automatically received a "P" on his parchment, while Hermione managed to scrape by with an "A." Harry wanted to hit her: she looked as though she was going to cry over her A.

Now, Snape swooped down towards Ron and Harry's end of the table. Ron's paper had caught on fire slightly when his potion nearly exploded; what was left of his blackened notes received a big fat "D" scrawled on the top.

Now, Snape gazed into Harry's cauldron. Harry found it quite strange how the professor was pretending that they hadn't so much as glanced at each other since the previous year.

Snape did an excellent job of hiding his surprise at Harry's successful attempt at finishing the potion. Even Granger couldn't come close to this perfection, as much as he hated to admit it. Behind the Gryffindors, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were watching anxiously to see what terrible grade their favourite professor would give Potter today. Snape desperately wanted to fail him, but the potion was nearly flawless.

"Interesting," he muttered sourly, handing Harry his notes back with a tiny "E" scrawled down at the top. Harry stared at the paper in shock, then looked back up at Snape, who was smirking slightly.

"Of course, my expectations were already so low for you, Potter, that of course you'd be able to exceed them. Class dismissed," he snapped at the dumbstruck students around him. Snape _rarely _gave Gryffindors anything above an A…Harry Potter, especially…

Everyone got up and hurriedly exited the room. Snape was furiously stomping back to his desk; if he ever gave Potter a passing grade again he'd hang himself.

"Oof! Oy, sorry Harry," Neville apologized after tripping over the chair on his way out, scattering Harry's belongings everywhere.

"Its okay, Neville," Harry sighed as he waved Ron and Hermione to go on without him and stooped down to clean up the mess. Even Snape's snarky comments and Neville's clumsiness couldn't dampen the elated feeling in his chest that he had just successfully proven to Snape that he really could be good at Potions if he tried.

Too bad he hadn't learned any decent cleaning spells yet; instead, Harry was forced to get on his hands and knees and scrub up the spilled mess manually. However, after a minute of intense scouring, it appeared as though he wouldn't be able to do this alone, so he pulled out his wand. Something else came with it and fluttered to the ground, but Harry ignored it.

Next to him, Neville was still cleaning up his own spot, in fear that Professor Snape would dock points if he left it as it was.

Just as Harry scooted forward to grab his fallen potions book, something crumbled underneath his foot. It was a piece of paper that he had accidentally seized when he pulled out his wand. He already knew what was written on it, and there was no point in obsessing even more over whose writing it was. Sighing to himself, he threw it onto the table and finished the task that lay before him.

"Potter! Longbottom! _Out_," Snape snapped at them, having not realized they were still in there until now.

"So how was your summer, Harry?" Neville asked as they began walking out of the classroom together.

Harry fumbled with a few papers, trying to think of a way to accurately describe his summer. It had been a strange one, to say the least. Two of the papers fluttered to the ground once they were out of the dungeons; groaning in frustration, Harry knelt down to pick them up.

"Harry?" Neville prodded him further, but Harry wasn't listening. In his hands were two papers: the note with only his name inscribed onto it and his Potions notes with the E shining proudly at the top. For several seconds, Harry looked back and forth at the two papers, then silently dropped them in disbelief.

_Impossible…not in a million years,_ thought Harry feverishly, though the similarities were unmistakable. The "E" in POTTER matched the same "E" on his Potions notes. Same semi-grey ink colour…same texture…same size…they were undoubtedly from the same person.

"You alright, Harry?" Neville asked him nervously. Harry blinked several times down at the two papers— even comparing them on top of each other— before coming back to his senses.

_Maybe you're not such a mean old git after all,_ Harry thought as he stood up and glanced back at Snape, who was now striding out of his classroom and passed the two boys as though they weren't even there.

Staring after his professor, Harry shook his head in puzzlement and smiled at Neville.

"My summer…wasn't too bad, actually."

* * *

**Long Author's Note (please read, it's important I promise):**

**Why I ended it here: **In case you don't know, the story is complete now. I never really intended it to be more than a one-shot, but I decided that if I went on with it, I'd only write a couple more chapters. Long stories tend to grow old after a while, and I didn't want this story to lose interest once they got back to Hogwarts (where it would mostly follow canon and there would be less of a focus on the two main characters of this fic).

**Mistakes in AUR: **I acknowledge the fact that I made a lot of mistakes with this story, but hey: I'm human too. We all make mistakes (ie: does "Nineteen Years Later..." ring a bell?). My only goal for writing fanfiction is to become a better writer first; offer an entertaining read for other people second. I've learned so much from the reviewers this story (I've never really received proper constructive criticism before), and sorry to sound sappy, but I believe that to succeed, you need to fail first.

**Why Harry got the broom: **You might say Harry was acting too bratty to really deserve the broom, but in reality, that character slip was a mistake on my part. I actually went back and re-wrote several parts of the story (cleaned up OOCness mostly), and I intended for Harry to get a new broom ever since chapter two. Snape didn't buy it out of kind-hearted generosity, per se, but rather because he didn't have much else to do with the money. What would he do with hundreds of Galleons? Invest it in his wizard's 401K plan? Buy top-of-the-line shampoo and conditioner? Give his rarely-inhabited home an extreme makeover? Donate it all to charity? Going under the assumption that his classroom equipment and materials are paid for by the school, he really doesn't have much use for the money anyways, so he bought a broom. Though he certainly intended for it to remain a mystery (much like hiding his worst memory from Harry in the Pensieve during Occlumency lessons); but that didn't really work out, did it? Also, added with Dumbledore's subtle manipulating ("Use it wisely" could hardly mean "Spend it on yourself"), Snape pretty much had no choice.

**Last note: **Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed this story. I had fun writing it (my first HarryxSnape guardianship fic), and I hope you all enjoyed it for the most part. I have a companion story idea (not exactly a "sequel"), called "Snape's Worst Summer." It is what AUR would have looked like if I had decided to re-write it, though this one will be set in Harry's third year this time around. However, I'm going to write my first HG/SS fic ("Saving Severus") and once that is completed, I'll start SWS (late June or early July is my guess...sorry about the wait, though it might be earlier depending on how long Saving Severus will be).

Again, I learned a lot about writing HP fanfiction from this story alone, and if you have any last thoughts, words of advice, constructive criticism, or even praise...I'd really appreciate it. Thanks again for reading :)


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